- Erin Fitzpatrick: You want him to have your kind of fun. You need to go have *his* kind of fun.
- Christopher Titus: [Confused] You want me to rip myself a new one?
- [Ken is displaying signs of a heart attack]
- Ken 'Papa' Titus: Almost every time I have fun my chest hurts.
- Erin Fitzpatrick: Your chest didn't hurt when I threw you that birthday party.
- Ken 'Papa' Titus: Well, that birthday party wasn't fun. Sorry you had to find out like this.
- [Erin looks hurt]
- [to Erin]
- Ken 'Papa' Titus: You've got the luck of the Irish. Without the dead liver and broken knuckles.
- [Sees Erin's facial expression]
- Ken 'Papa' Titus: What? I'm 1/16th Irish.
- [first lines]
- Christopher Titus: Your father. He loves you. But, he doesn't like you. And why should he ? Huh ? Ever since you were born, he's had less money, less sex, less time, less stuff. You eat his food. You wear his clothes. You don't give him his messages. And look, you're his son. You suck.
- [last lines]
- Christopher Titus: Your father loves you. But, he doesn't like you. His job is to tell you you suck and are worthless so that when you get out there on your own you don't end up sucking worthlessly. He makes you a better man so that one day you will have the strength and character to stand up to him. And give him the finger. But just pray on that day he doesn't have the strength and character to break that finger off. Ow. I thought he was sleeping.
- Christopher Titus: [to a waitress] Excuse me, miss, I'll give you... what the hell, five hundred dollars to show my pal your boobs.
- Erin Fitzpatrick: [shocked] Christopher!
- Christopher Titus: Six hundred?
- Erin Fitzpatrick: [through gritted teeth] Christopher!
- [while Erin and Titus are talking, the waitress nonchalantly opens her shirt and flashes Ken]
- Ken 'Papa' Titus: WOW!
- Ken 'Papa' Titus: I'll be nice to the wussy. Son, my son. Fruit of my revenge sex.
- Christopher Titus: Dad!
- Ken 'Papa' Titus: All right. Fruit of my broken condom.