Dr. Linkletter: [on answer phone] Connie, Grant Linkletter. Wonderful seeing you tonight.
Meemaw: Yeah, yeah.
Dr. Linkletter: Hope you enjoyed our little book club. If you'd ever like to discuss it further, I know the perfect Italian café. The cannolis are resplendent.
Meemaw: Resplendent! [chuckles] [machine beeps]
Dr. John Sturgis: [on answer phone] Connie! John Sturgis here.
Meemaw: What a surprise.
Dr. John Sturgis: It was so nice to have you at our book club. When it comes to science fiction, those things can be real sausage parties. Anyhoo, if you're free next week, I was wondering if you'd like to... [Meemaw skips to the next message]
Dr. Linkletter: Grant Linkletter again. If you don't like Italian, I also know a sublime Vietnamese spot. Have you ever tried Bún Boò Hue? [machine beeps]
Dr. John Sturgis: I don't know why I said "sausage party." There was probably a better way to phrase that. [machine beeps]
Dr. Linkletter: Connie, Grant Linkletter...

Sheldon: Now, about the telescope room, I was watching Star Trek and it got me thinking...
Dr. Linkletter: Sheldon, searching for life on other planets isn't serious science. Leave that to the tinfoil hat brigade.
Sheldon: But statistically, given the number of stars and planets, it's likely we could find one capable of supporting life. And if we did, it would be the greatest scientific discovery of all time.
Dr. Linkletter: Yes, and if I had fruit on my head, I'd be Carmen Miranda.
Sheldon: I'm not familiar with that reference.
Dr. Linkletter: She sang and danced with fruit on her head.
Sheldon: Why would she have fruit on her head?
Dr. Linkletter: I don't know, in case she got hungry. It's not gonna happen, Sheldon!

Sheldon: Dr. Linkletter, I need to talk to you.
Dr. Linkletter: Great.
Sheldon: Do you think you could get me access to the telescope room? I want to search for exoplanets that could support life.
Dr. Linkletter: Are you feeling homesick?
Sheldon: Are you implying that I'm from another planet?
Dr. Linkletter: Yes.
Sheldon: Compliment accepted.

Sheldon: Dr. Linkletter, I need to talk to you.
Dr. Linkletter: Are we in my office?
Sheldon: No.
Dr. Linkletter: Then these are not my office hours.
Sheldon: Are you using my love of schedules against me?
Dr. Linkletter: [chuckles] Oh, yes.
Sheldon: Well done.

Sheldon: Oh, I'm assuming you heard the bad news.
Mary: What news?
Sheldon: Isaac Asimov died.
Mary: Oh, no, is that one of your school friends?
Sheldon: What? No, he's one of the most prolific science fiction writers in the history of the genre.
George: Never heard of him.
Sheldon: Sure you have. He wrote I, Robot, the Foundation trilogy.
George: Nope.
Sheldon: Nightfall? The Posotronic Man?
George: You ever heard of this guy?
Mary: Mm-mm.
Sheldon: Caves of Steel. Hostess. The Naked Sun?
George: Whoever he is, sorry he died. Gotta go. Bye.
Mary: Bye.
Adult Sheldon: Astonishing. Asimov wrote almost 500 books, which was apparently 500 more than my family had read.

Sheldon: Can we get back to the book?
Dr. John Sturgis: Yes, Connie, I'd love to hear more of your thoughts on it.
Meemaw: I think I've said my piece.
Sheldon: I have some thoughts.
Dr. Linkletter: And we'll get to those in due time. Don't you think Asimov did a remarkable job of capturing the poetic terror of the coming darkness?
Meemaw: I'm not sure I got that.
Dr. Linkletter: Oh, listen to this. "Dusk, like a palpable entity, entered the room, and the dancing circle of yellow lights about the torches etched itself into ever-sharper distinction against the gathering grayness beyond." [Meemaw and John are silent]
Sheldon: Powerful.
Dr. Linkletter: Wasn't it?
[Meemaw shrugs her shoulders]

Georgie: [answers phone] Hello?
Dale: Hi, it's Dale. Listen, you gotta tell your dad.
Georgie: Well, I will, eventually.
Dale: Well, if you don't, I'm gonna.
Georgie: I just need more time to figure things out.
Dale: Well, your dad's sniffing around here, he's asking a lot of questions.
Georgie: What kind of questions?
Dale: Like why are you talking to me instead of him?
Georgie: Why does he care?
Dale: His feelings are hurt.
Georgie: That's weird.
Dale: I know. 'Cause talking to you ain't great.
George: [opens door] Can I get a hand with something?
Dale: Yeah. [on the phone] Oh, gotta go. I love you, Mom. Bye-bye. [hangs up]
George: Your mom's still alive?
Dale: Huh?