[Denise has asked Cliff to sleep on 32nd St for tickets to a concert. Cliff is laughing]
Cliff: 32nd St. Where?
Denise: On 32nd St... itself.
Cliff: Why, have you volunteered to be a pothole?
[Cliff picks up something strange from Theo's desk and stares at it]
Theo: I don't know what it is Dad, but I can't throw it away until I find out.
[Denise asks Theo if she can borrow some money for a concert]
Theo: Hey, if Dad lets you go, I'll give you five hundred dollars.
Denise: You don't have five hundred dollars!
Theo: Do I look worried?
Cliff: A long, long time ago, three to four generations ago, parents didn't talk much to their children. At four A.M, the father would come home, look at his son sleeping, wake him up and say "Boy, go out and plough the field now". And the boy would rub his eye and say "Yes, pa". And occasionally, the son would ask the father how much he'd get paid. And the father grabbed the plough, and ran over his son. Those days are over, because we have become more civilized, more sophisticated, but it's still inside of me no matter how sophisticated I get. And it grows over time. Boy, when I say to one of my children to do something and they say "How much does it pay?", I think I'm going to buy a plough.
Denise: Dad, I'd like permission to sleep away from home tonight.
Cliff: Ok, are you going to sleep at a friend's house?
Cliff: Are you going to sleep at a stranger's house?
[Cliff is dancing and Denise is watching him]
Denise: Dad, promise me something. When my friends come over... don't do that.