- Bud: Okay, I'll let you go, but you've gotta promise to give me a head start.
- [Bud removes the wire from Al's neck]
- Al: Sure, Son, what do you think I'm gonna do? Hunt you down like a dog and kill you? Sure, a normal father would do that, but we're Bundys.
- Bud: Oh God. What does that mean, you're gonna eat me?
- Health Inspector: Mr. Bundy, you had a month to get this basement in shape.
- Al: You had your whole life to get in shape and you don't see me condemning you.
- Al: Well, your laziness, your sloping forehead, your... ability to catch flies with your tongue.
- Bud: This is what you call a pat on the back?
- Al: No, no, no, Son, see, you got mad like anybody would, but you got mad and EVEN. That's what makes you part of the grand Bundy Tradition. I'll never forget my old man, sweet guy. Sold my Schwin for the price of a drink. I was so mad at him, before he knew it, I enlisted him into the Army. But the time he came back from Korea, boy, he was so ticked off, good thing he was in a wheelchair.
- Health Inspector: This is an electronic mobility limitation device. It'll prevent you from leaving the premises.
- Al: Much like your hips in a turnstile.
- Marcy D'Arcy: And I get to torture him. Here's another hundred.
- Bud: You enjoy yourself, but remember, you gotta be out by 2. You'd be surprised at how many people want to torture dad.
- Marcy D'Arcy: No I wouldn't.
- Peggy: Sounds familiar? How many times have I told you Al, you gotta stick it in the right way and pressing all the right buttons wouldn't hurt either.