Lew Hayward: I was a captain of industry; feared by men, adored by women.
Frank Cross: Adored! Come on, let's be honest, Lew. You *paid* for the women!
Frank Cross: I want to see her nipples.
Censor Lady: But this is a CHRISTMAS show.
Frank Cross: Well, I'm sure Charles Dickens would have wanted to see her nipples.
Carpenter: You can barely see them nipples.
Frank Cross: See? And these guys are REALLY looking.
Ghost of Christmas Past: Let's face it, Frank. Garden slugs got more out of life than you.
Frank Cross: Yeah? Name one!
Frank Cross: I never liked a girl well enough to give her twelve sharp knives.
[Frank is confronted by the ghost of his old boss]
Frank Cross: No, you are a hallucination brought on by alcohol... Russian vodka poisoned by Chernobyl!
James Cross: You know what they say about people who treat other people bad on the way up?
Frank Cross: Yeah, you get to treat 'em bad on the way back down too. It's great, you get two chances to rough 'em up.
[Props man tries to attach antlers to a mouse]
Props man: I can't get the antlers glued to this little guy. We tried Crazy Glue, but it don't work.
Frank Cross: Did you try staples?
Frank Cross: The bitch hit me with a toaster!
Ghost of Christmas Present: Sometimes you have to *slap* them in the face just to get their attention!
Earl Cross: All day long, I listen to people give me excuses why they can't work... 'My back hurts,' 'my legs ache,' 'I'm only four!' The sooner he learns life isn't handed to him on a silver platter, the better!
Ghost of Christmas Present: [repeating the question] On the "Addams Family", what instrument did Lurch play?
Frank Cross: I may be invisible, but I am *not deaf!*
Claire Phillips: Taxi! Can you get me to the IBC building in three minutes?
Ghost of Christmas Past: Which floor?
Ghost of Christmas Present: You know I like the rough stuff, don't you, Frank?
The Ghost of Christmas Present: Oh, what is this, Frank? Oh, oh look, Frank! It's a toaster!
[hits him in the forehead with the toaster]
Frank Cross: Hey. Are you glad to see me, or is this a shotgun in your pocket?
[toss gun away; it fires]
Frank Cross: All right, you've heard it. How's this for a deal? I hire you back, pay you twice your original salary, and offer you a vice president position. Would you like my office?
Elliot: No, I don't like your office.
Frank Cross: That's SO YOU!
Elliot: What's the catch?
Frank Cross: The catch...
Frank Cross: ...is that you need to shower, little man. You are RIPE! Whoo!
Ghost of Christmas Past: Go back to Jersey, you moron!
Herman: Boy, that Dick sure knows how to drink, huh?
Frank Cross: Why do you keep calling me "Dick"?
Herman: I'm sorry, Mr. Burton, I guess we don't know you well enough yet to call you Dick.
Frank Cross: The Jews taught me this great word: Schmuck. I was a schmuck, and now I'm not a schmuck!
Frank Cross: I'm gonna give you a little advice, Claire... Scrape 'em off. You wanna save somebody? Save yourself!
Claire Phillips: Oh, well, that's a really nice attitude on Christmas Eve!
Frank Cross: Bah, humbug.
Frank Cross: I get it. You're here to show me my past, and I'm supposed to get all dully-eyed and mushy. Well, forget it, pal, you got the wrong guy!
Ghost of Christmas Past: That's exactly what Attila the Hun said. But when he saw his mother... Niagara Falls!
Ghost of Christmas Past: Niagara Falls, Frankie Angel.
Frank Cross: Grace, put yourself down for a towel, too.
Grace: What about my bonus?
Frank Cross: Towel and a facecloth.
Elliot: Hello, IBC program room.
Preston: This is Rhinelander. Who's the idiot that put that nut on the air?
Elliot: Oh, uh, Brice Cummings is the idiot, sir, but uh... he can't talk to you right now because he's sorta tied up. Uh-huh. Oh, in fact, he just said that you were a flatulating butthead?
Preston: A butthead?
Elliot: He said he never felt that way about a man before, but you really looked good in a suit.
Frank Cross: Would you please hold the goddamn hammering, now!
Frank Cross: You've got a promo featuring America's favorite old fart reading a book in front of a fireplace! Now I have to kill all of you!
[Frank notices a picture of Santa and Mrs. Claus on the wall]
Frank Cross: Grace, what in the hell is this?
Grace: Oh, it's a painting, one of my kids did. See, there's Santa Claus and there's Mrs. Claus.
Frank Cross: Honey, how many fingers does Mrs. Santa Claus have here?
Frank Cross: Eleven. Right.
[rips it down]
Frank Cross: It's crap. Lose it. I don't want it on the wall.
[tosses it in the wastebasket]
[Elliot points a shotgun right in Frank's face]
Elliot: Hello, wabbit!
Frank Cross: Could you give me a head start?
Elliot: Sure. One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three!
Daughter: Mom, when are we gonna get a real Christmas tree?
Grace: When they're free!
Frank Cross: Get me Standards and Practices in here. I want to see wreaths!
Frank Cross: Do you think I'm way off base here?
Elliot: Yes. You're, well, you're a tad off base, sir. That thing looked like The Manson Family Christmas Special!
Frank Cross: It's Christmas Eve! It's... it's the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we... we... we smile a little easier, we... w-w-we... we... we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be!
Frank Cross: Claire, the whole world. Whole world, Claire.
[Ghost of Christmas Past takes Frank to 1955]
Frank Cross: Where are we?
Ghost of Christmas Past: Where are we? You mean, "When are we?"
Frank Cross: [to the abstract/impressionist portrait on the wall] Mother... help me.
Lew Hayward: I don't mind you shooting at me, Frank, but take it easy on the Bacardi!
Frank Cross: You're staying here with me. We're working late.
Grace: But I have to take my son to the doctor.
Frank Cross: GRACE! When I work late, YOU work late!
Grace: But I made the appointment two months ago!
Frank Cross: [Inconsiderately] I DON'T CARE!
Frank Cross: [grabbing Grace]
Frank Cross: We're indivisible. If I'm working late, you GOTTA work late! If you can't work late, I can't work late! If I can't work late, I CAN'T WORK LATE!
Ghost of Christmas Present: Close your eyes...! And think of snowflakes and moonbeams and whiskers on kittens...
[She notices Frank peeking and goes to jab his eys with two fingers]
Ghost of Christmas Present: Nooooo peeking!
[Frank blocks the jab and closes his eyes]
Ghost of Christmas Present: Of rainbows, forget-me-nots... of misty meadows and sun-dappled pools. Oh, look! There's Mr Hedgehog. I wonder where he's going? Perhaps to HARLEM!
[She punches Frank]
Frank Cross: My jaw!
Ghost of Christmas Present: Sometimes the truth is painful, Frank.
[She slaps his face]
Ghost of Christmas Present: But it's made your cheeks rosy and your eyes bright!
Frank Cross: If you TOUCH ME AGAlN, I'll rip your goddamned wings off! Okay?
Frank Cross: [Screams and accidentally hits Grace] Oh God! Oh God! Grace, go watch the show! He's here for me! Come on! Come on! Give it to me!
[falls to knees]
Frank Cross: You think I'm afraid of you, the day I've had? I know what you came for. Come and get it, you pussy.
Fake Ghost of Christmas Future: Brice!
Brice Cummings: [Getting the Fake Ghost away from Frank, who's obviously been scared by him] Stop scaring Frank. Get this nutcake out.
Ghost of Christmas Past: It's a bone, you lucky dog!
Ghost of Christmas Past: You left Claire for Frisbee the dog? Frank, let me sum this up for you: you don't know who you are, you don't know what you want, and you don't know what the hell is going on!
Frank Cross: I've made a few mistakes. I gotta live with that. But I do know who I am, I know what I want, and I know what's going on!
Ghost of Christmas Past: [the Ghost has disappeared into a monitor, and whistles to get his attention] Hey, Frank! Up here!
Frank Cross: What's going on?
Ghost of Christmas Past: How should I know? I'm just the ghost! So long, sucker!
Frank Cross: Same old Claire... still trying to save the world.
Claire Phillips: You still trying to run it?
Frank Cross: We're gonna need champagne for 250 people, and send the stuff that you send to me. Don't send the stuff that I send to other people.
[after pouring a bucket of water on a waiter he thought was on fire]
Frank Cross: I'm sorry. You know I thought you were Richard Pryor!
James Cross: My brother, the king of Christmas!
Frank Cross: Would you *please*, for the love of *god*, and your own body!, stop the damn hammering?