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: Mom said you're supposed to be nice to me. Randy Taylor
: You see Mom anywhere in this backyard? Now get lost. Mark Taylor
: You've *got* to play with me; we're brothers. Randy Taylor
: ...We're not your brothers. Mark Taylor
: Yes, you are. Randy Taylor
: I'm gonna let you in on a secret. We're aliens from outer space. Mark Taylor
: You're a big fat liar, Randy! Randy Taylor
: My name isn't Randy; it's Zelnot! Brad Taylor
: I'm Zorton. Mark Taylor
: No, you're not; you're Brad and Randy. Randy Taylor
: No... Brad and Randy are gone. We sucked the blood out of their brains and took over their bodies. We have *many* powers. We can read minds. Mark Taylor
: No, you can't. Randy Taylor
: I'll prove it. Zorton? Brad Taylor
: Talk to me, Zelnot. Randy Taylor
: I'm thinking of a number between one and ten; what is it? Brad Taylor
: Four! Randy Taylor
: That's right.
: Why are you walkin' backwards? You could hurt yourself doin' that. Mark Taylor
: Better than getting all my blood sucked out. Tim Taylor
: ...He's got a good point there. Jill Taylor
: Have you been talking to your brothers? What have they been telling you now? Mark Taylor
: They think you're all from outer space. Jill Taylor
: Honey, you know that's not true. Tim Taylor
: Jill, sometimes you wake up early in the morning...
: Are you gonna make Brad and Randy say they're sorry? Tim Taylor
: Well, you have two choices: You either make 'em apologize, or we could get even. Mark Taylor
: Get even! Tim Taylor
: That's my boy!
: He wouldn't! Mark
: He couldn't! Randy
: He's Dad!
: He wouldn't! Mark
: He couldn't! Randy
: He's DAD!
: I have a woman - Mommy. Randy Taylor
: Your mommy can't be your woman, doofus. Tim Taylor
: A lot of men pay a psychiatrist a lot of money to figure *that* one out.
: Do anything fun this weekend? Mark Taylor
: Daddy and I dressed up like women. Al Borland
: ...Oh, really? Tim Taylor
: It's not like it sounds, Al. Mark Taylor
: Daddy had Mommy's hat on, and we both wore earrings. Al Borland
: Well, of course; earrings would complete the ensemble. Tim Taylor
: It's not like I had a bra on or anything, Al. Al Borland
: Well, maybe next time, Tim.
: Mark, you're too old to believe in Santa Claus; kids are gonna start to make fun of you. Mark Taylor
: What are you talking about? Randy Taylor
: I hate to break it to you, but there is no Santa Claus. Mark Taylor
: You guys are poop-heads! Randy Taylor
: OK, fine; here's the truth: There used to be a Santa Claus, but he died six years ago. Brad Taylor
: Yep... you just missed out. Mark Taylor
: Santa Claus isn't dead. Randy Taylor
: Yes, he is. He had a terrible accident with one of his reindeer - Blitzen fell on him.
: So Santa's alive? Jill Taylor
: ...Yeah; you sat on his lap at the mall. Mark Taylor
: But there are a lot of malls; how can he be at every one? Tim Taylor
: He's real fast for a fat guy. Jill Taylor
: Actually, honey, I think that those guys at the mall are Santa's helpers - you know, the way that Al is Daddy's helper. Tim Taylor
: Right. Mark Taylor
: [suddenly understanding
] So *they* do all the work. Tim Taylor
] They *assist* Santa, like Al *assists* me.
: A live chicken? Brad, who the hell do you hang out with? Brad Taylor
: Mom... Jill Taylor
: What? Brad Taylor
: Dad's cussing. Tim Taylor
: I wasn't cussing. Mark Taylor
: He said a bad word. Tim Taylor
: It wasn't bad. Randy Taylor
: Yeah, he said "hell" and "damn". Tim Taylor
: I did *not* say "damn". Randy Taylor
: *Now* you did.
: Dad, Brad and Randy are doing bad things. Tim Taylor
: Unless it involves human sacrifice, I don't wanna hear about it. Mark Taylor
: Okay, I'll let you know.
: Hello Jill. Randy
: Goodbye Mom.
: Hello Jill. Mark
: Goodbye Mom.
[Tim is dreaming that he and his family are wooden dolls
: Boys, go get your rooms and put them in the box. Mark
: But where are we going to live? Tim
: You, you, you. You people have got to stop thinking about yourselves. Jill
: Tim, you've changed. You're caring. Giving. You're... loving. And you've got a termite coming out of your ear. Tim
: Have a little compassion. Even the lowliest creature needs a friend.
: [while fly fishing
] Hey Wilson, can you show us how to do that forward cast? Wilson
: Certianly Brad, you start at one o'clock and you end up at ten o'clock. Mark
: [as Tim does it wrong
] Dad he said ten o'clock. Tim
: I didn't know he ment ten o'clock eastern time.
: And then, who should grab my shoulder but General Douglas MacArthur. Mark
: Who? The Colonel
: Your father never told you about General MacArthur? Mark
: No, but he told me about General Motors.
: [Brad has spelled "Melonology" on a Scrabble board
] Melonology? Brad
: The study of melons. Mark
: There is no such thing as melonology. Brad
: Yeah, there is. Call the produce department at the grocery store, and find out! Randy
: Who should I ask for, the melonologist?
: But Mom, they were gonna play with me. Jill
: Mark, when Brad and Randy say they want to play with you, always ask yourself, "What do they want to DO to me?"
: There's two different types of pain. Pain and man pain. Mark
: What's man pain? Tim
: Man pain is when you do something stupid.
: Ice cold pop for my favorite son. Mark
: I'm your favorite son? Tim
: Well, you're my last hope. One son looks like a sumo wrestler, the other one's in there putting moves on his mother.
: Why aren't we having eggs? Tim
: Benny ate them. Mark
: Or bacon? Jill
: Benny. Randy
: Or toast? Tim
: Benny. Jill
: Who ties up the phone, puts dark laundry in with our whites, sleeps all day, sits on the couch watches T.V. all night? Tim
: Benny. Brad
: Who do we want out of the house? Brad
: The Taylors, if their the typical American family, this country's in trouble.
: You know that tape measure that you could never find? Tim Taylor
: Go ahead. Tell me, you lost it. Mark Taylor
: No. Brad and Randy broke it. Tim Taylor
: Good to have you back, son.
: Here comes the groom. Brad
: Shut up. Randy
: You know, Brad, we were thinking about places to have your bachelor party. How do you feel about Chuck E. Cheese's? Mark
: Yeah , the groom gets free tokens.
: Tell you what - why don't you go down to Club Piranha and *you* hang out with those guys tonight? Stu Cutler
: Without you? C'mon - it won't be the same. Tim Taylor
: Stu, I don't think it *is* the same.
[a moment passes, and Mark presses his face up to the window
] Mark Taylor
: Dad - dinner's ready; can I turn on the video?
: Sounds like Mom's kicking your butt. Jill
: Yeah, with Al and a team of girls. Mark
: You're losing to girls? Tim
: I wouldn't consider Miss America a girl. She's almost professional. I heard in her talent competition she put up drywall.
] You're dead, pin. You're dead. You and your nine scrawny friends too.
[Throws the ball
: Yay, Daddy, you did it. You knocked down that one pin. Jill
: And you left his nine scrawny friends.
: Listen, what do you think Nana called Mom when she was little? Mark
: Jill? Tim
: No, a name that might annoy her. Brad
: Tim. Tim
: Back off. Okay, when she was real little, Nana used to call her... Jill
: [Over intercom
] Don't even think about it, Tim.
: Sam has $8. 00. Billy has nothing. Tim
: Okay, let's use real money. $8. 00. I'll be Sam, you be Billy. Mark
: Sam gives Billy 50% of what he has. Now Billy gives Sam 50% of what he has. Now, Sam gives Billy 100% of what he has left. How much does Sam have? Tim
: Nothing. Mark
: Exactly. Thanks, Sam.
[Takes the money
: Sam wasn't a real bright guy, was he?
: You guys are lying. Jill
: Mark, let me handle this. You guys are lying.