- Al: Once my kids leave the house, I'll finally be able to do what every man is supposed to. I can watch TV. I can... well, I don't know but it doesn't matter. It's still better than having a screaming, crapping, money-sucking little vampire bobsledding me to the graveyard. God I feel good.
- Peggy: Honey?
- Al: Yes?
- Peggy: Guess what?
- Al: What?
- Peggy: I'M PREGNANT TOO!
- Marcy: How far along are you?
- Peggy: Five months.
- Al: Five months?
- Peggy: Al, didn't you notice that I was getting fat?
- Al: Well... yeah.
- Al: So, we're having a new baby. The gods are on a roll, aren't they? Must've been playing another round of "Can you top this?" One started off, "We'll make him a shoe salesman." Then another said, "We'll give him a red-head." Then another one, probably a cruel, hungover god, said, "But let's have him be a mighty athlete in high school first so his fall will be all the greater."
- Kelly: But the gods showed you they loved you when they gave you us.
- Al: Yeah, give those gods a Miller. Will someone please tell me, how did this happen?
- Marcy: My Jefferson can't do enough for me. Would you believe right now, he is out getting me a pie? Sometimes he is so good to me, it just brings tears to my eyes.
- Jefferson: [enters the house, carrying a pie in his hand] Well, here it is. I drove fifty miles, holding it up so the cherries didn't settle on the bottom.
- [presents it to Marcy]
- Marcy: This is not a large.
- [starts becoming emotional]
- Marcy: Is this all you think of me? Is this all you think of your child? Well, you just march yourself back to Wisconsin and get me a real pie, Mister, or you don't love our baby!
- [starts blubbering]
- Marcy: A-sheeeeee! A-sheeeeee!
- Jefferson: [with restrained resentment] Okay, honey, I'll be right back with another pie... ya stinkin' parasite...