Roy: Hey, I hope you don't mind, I got up a little early, so I took the liberty of milking your cow for you. Yeah, it took a little while to get her warmed up, she sure is a stubborn one. Then, POW, all at once.
[Takes a drink from the bucket]
Mr. Boorg: We don't have a cow. We have a bull.
Roy: I'll brush my teeth.
Landlady: [Roy is throwing up in the background after having had sex with his Landlady, to keep from being evicted. The Landlady is too satisfied to care] What is it about good sex that makes me have to crap? I guess it's all that pumpin'. Pump and dump.
[She laughs at her own jokes]
Landlady: You really jarred something loose, tiger.
Ishmael: Whatcha doin', Mr. Munson?
Ishmael: Flossin? Where'd I get "Munson" from?
Roy: The *name* is Munson, what I'm doin' is flossin', this is called floss, cleans your teeth, you oughta try it sometime!
[Roy Munson is getting ready for his turn to bowl]
Ernie McCracken: It all comes down to this roll. Roy Munson, a man-child, with a dream to topple bowling giant Ernie McCracken. If he strikes, he's the 1979 Odor-Eaters Champion. He's got one foot in the frying pan and one in the pressure cooker. Believe me, as a bowler, I know that right about now, your bladder feels like an overstuffed vacuum cleaner bag and your butt is kinda like an about-to-explode bratwurst.
Roy: Hey. Do you mind? I wasn't talking when you were bowling.
Ernie McCracken: Was I talking out loud? Was I? Sorry. Good luck.
Ishmael: You really should try to quit, Mr. Munson. They say it's bad for your heart, your lungs. It quickens the aging process.
Roy: Is that right. Who's done more research on the subject than the good people at the American Tobacco Industry? They say it's harmless. Why would they lie? If you're dead, you can't smoke.
Roy: Yeah, sure, Thomas can raise a barn, but can he pick up a 7-10 split?
Ishmael: God blessed my brother to be a good carpenter. It's okay.
Roy: Yeah, well, he blessed you, too, and I'll give you a clue what it is. It's round, it has three holes, and you stick your fingers into it.
Ishmael: [He points his finger into Roy's face] You leave Rebecca out of this, mister!
Roy: I'm talking about bowling! Your future!
Ishmael: Okay, you want to bowl for some big money, eh? But I'll lose my entire bonus check because I'm so *bombed*.
McKnight Bowl Bartender: You get that way from ginger ale?
Roy: Nah, he was sniffing glue in the parking lot.
Ishmael: [after losing a game] Mr. Munson, you all right?
Roy: [calmly] Ish, uh, what happened in there?
Ishmael: Well, I don't know. Um, I thought I played pretty good. Uh, he's just a little better than me, that's all.
Roy: Pretty good, huh? 186.
[loses his cool]
Roy: You lost to a club player! What - that's not supposed to happen! You're carrying a 270 average!
Ishmael: Wh-wh-wh-what do you expect? I mean, you guys with your 10 frames.
Roy: [angrily] What do you mean, "you guys with your 10 frames"?
Ishmael: Well, my grandpa always taught me to bowl 15 frames. It's like I told you before, we Amish, we do everything half again as hard as you do. Ten frames.
Ishmael: That's for Quakers.
Neighbor: Roy, can you get sick drinkin' piss?
Roy: I think you can.
Neighbor: Even if it's your own?
ESPN Announcer: So Roy, where have you been for the last fifteen years?
Roy: Well, I uh, well, ya see, I uh... Drinking. Lot a drinking.
ESPN Announcer: I see. Well, are you still drinking?
Roy: No. I uh... I put... uh... Why, you buying?
Mr. Boorg: How many children do you have, Brother Hezekiah?
Roy: Uh, none that I know of.
[Adopting a terrible Irish accent]
Roy: What I mean to say is, I was, uh, wee, I'm unable to have children. Nasty cheese gratin' accident as a young man.
McKnight Bowl Bartender: So, you two are dictionary salesmen?
Roy: You would be punctilious in assuming that."
Ishmael: [to Ernie McCracken] I don't know who the heck you think you are, but if you don't wiggle those child-bearing hips out that door in 5 seconds, you're gonna find your nose sniffing my big Amish ass!
Ishmael: Hey everybody there's a shit cloud coming! Run for your lives!
1979 Waitress: Tanqueray and Tab.
Ernie McCracken: Keep 'em comin', sweets, I got a long drive. Do me a favor, will you? Would you mind washing off that perfume before you come back to our table?
Ernie McCracken: The Munson.
Roy: Big Ern. Long time.
Ernie McCracken: I'll say. Probably a year for every topping on the table. I heard a horrible rumor...
Ernie McCracken: [looks at Roy's prosthetic rubber hand] Oh, creepy! I'm sorry. You know, for the first couple years, I felt responsible. How you been otherwise?
Roy: You know, in the last 17 years, a day hasn't gone by that I haven't thought about what I'd say to you if I ever ran into you again.
Ernie McCracken: I bet!
Ernie McCracken: [notices Claudia] Hello.
[refering to Roy's hook for a hand]
Claudia: It must be hard to spank your monkey.
Ishmael: You have a monkey?
Ernie McCracken: You're on a gravy train with biscuit wheels.
Roy: What about a gross of fluorescent condoms for the the novelty machine in the men's room? I mean, those are fun even when you're alone.
Lancaster Bowl Manager: Yeah.
Roy: You get it?
Lancaster Bowl Manager: [impatiently, trying to read his Asian Brides magazine] Yeah!
Roy: This is like the hula hoop of the nineties. People go nuts!
Lancaster Bowl Manager: No! Look, we don't even have a novelty machine in the men's room anymore.
Roy: And you call this a bowling alley?
Roy: Some of the dresses ya' got, ya' need two hairdos to wear.
Roy: I know what you're thinking, but let me explain...
[Claudia kicks Roy in the crotch]
Roy: [very softly] Mommy. You must have a really wide foot because you got both of them
Mr. Boorg: Ishmael always was a strange boy, but he means well.
Roy: [Whispering so as not to awake Claudia, whom he means to leave behind] Just be quiet.
[as Ishmael whispers "okay," Roy trips and falls]
Roy: Ooh! I think I tore my sac.
Ishmael: [loudly] Are you okay, Mr. Munson?
Roy: Shh! What did I just say?
Ishmael: Uh, "I think I tore my sac"?
Claudia: Your act is about as fresh as a Foghat concert.
Ernie McCracken: It's a small world when you've got unbelievable tits Roy.
Ernie McCracken: Jonathan, run a fly pattern all the way to the goal line.
Ernie McCracken: [he snaps the mom's skirt] Tennessee! Kentucky! Find the meat! Uh, deeper, Jonathan.
Roy: Just because you're familiar with the missionary position doesn't make you a missionary.
Claudia: Look, Mr. Munster, you're not exactly the smartest guy I ever ran across.
Roy: Oh yeah? And who are you, Alfred Einstein?
Roy: Take that, you freaky piece of shit. You don't mow another guy's lawn.
Claudia: Ishmael likes me.
Roy: I promise you, you're not his type.
Claudia: Oh, I'm his type. I'm every guy's type.
Man in bowling alley: Come on, boy. Bowl!
Roy: The name's not boy. It's Roy.
[makes a spare]
Roy: Roy Munson.
Ishmael: I don't drink coffee.
Roy: Why not?
Ishmael: Because it's a stimulant.
Roy: What the hell do you think cigarettes are?
Ishmael: They are?
Ishmael: All right, make it an extra large, two sugars, lots of cream. Lots of cream.
Ishmael: No way. Uh-huh. There's no way I can bet. It's against my religion. I was raised to *not* be a gambler. There's no way I'm going to bet.
Roy: Hey, hey, Ish. Ish! *Ish*!
Ishmael: No. No! *No* way!
Roy: Hey! Listen, you stupid banana head! You don't have to bet. I'll bet for you.
Ishmael: Oh, that's cool. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?
[Roy agrees by gesturing with his hook and then looks at it awkwardly]
Ishmael: Some corn stalks were broken and I tried to fix them.
[In the parking lot, Roy has packed his car and is saying farewell to Dad and a few friends]
Roy: Can you believe this? Me, on a professional bowling tour?
Calvert Munson: It's your calling, son. One day, when people say the name Munson, they're gonna think "winner." Just like DiMaggio is to baseball or, or Unitas is to football, that's what Munson will be to bowling.
Silver Legacy Maid: [Roy and Ishmael are trying to find Claudia and have rushed to her hotel room, only to find two maids making up the bed] She checked out. She left with two guys.
Roy: Two guys like us?
Silver Legacy Maid: No, they were good looking.
[the caption reads "Ocelot, Iowa. 1969." Roy Munson's father is fueling a car at the Munson Service Center. He calls out to the driver:]
Calvert Munson: All set, Charlie!
Young Roy: Pa!
[Young Roy, running, trips over a very low white picket fence, breaking half a picket as he runs to his dad]
Calvert Munson: [Grinning] Whoa!
Young Roy: Hey, Pa! You got time for a game before supper?
Calvert Munson: Go get your ball. I'll meet you out back.
[Mr. Munson has installed a very small bowling lane in the back yard]
Calvert Munson: Okay, Roy, come on, I want to see some smoke on this one!
[Roy rolls a perfect strike]
Calvert Munson: Whoo! Okay!
Young Roy: Yeah!
Calvert Munson: [Mr. Munson whistles in admiration] Son, you put that in a bottle, you got something sweeter than Yoo Hoo.
[Roy rolls another perfect strike]
Calvert Munson: Whoo! Beauty!
[They take a walk, hand in hand]
Calvert Munson: You got a great gift, son. It's as if angels came down from heaven and put a blessing on your three bowling digits. You can apply everything that I've taught you about bowling to your daily life. And if you do that, you're gonna be decent, you're gonna be moral, and you're going to be a good man.
[Cut to 1979. When Roy saunters into a disco-loud bowling alley, the acknowledged king sporting a golden bowling ball, it looks as though he has forgotten his father's teachings]
Ernie McCracken: I don't know. It's fun though, isn't it?
Ishmael: I didn't want to be the one to tell him, but with those narrow hips, that girl couldn't have more than 6 or 7 children!
Roy: The world can really kick your ass. I only have a VAGUE recollection of when it wasn't kickin' mine.
Roy: Double or nothing I can pick up that spare. I think I can do it.
Ernie McCracken: It's a 6-7-10. You'll pick up that spare the same day my hair starts falling out.
Ernie McCracken: Sometimes a bowler just has to face the music.
Little boy: Sometimes when I wake up in the morning Mr. McCracken's already there.
Bowling Priest: You see, bowling for money... that's my only vice.
Cocktail Waitress: Here's your drink.
Bowling Priest: Thanks sugar
[takes drink from a double bourbon on the rocks and pats waitress' behind]
Bowling Priest: . Okay, two vices.
Ernie McCracken: That's still very good.
Roy: [to the Bowling Priest] Give us a chance to win our money back.
Ernie McCracken: Are you crazy?
[to the Priest]
Ernie McCracken: Padre, how much are you into us for already?
Bowling Priest: Uh, three-hundred and fifty.
Ernie McCracken: $350. That's a landau roof and power steering down the drain. Could be in your pocket right now. Let's go.
Roy: Double or nothing I can pick up that spare. I think I can do it.
Ernie McCracken: That's the 6-7-10. You'll pick up that spare the same day my hair starts falling out. Come on, let's get outta here.
Roy: I can do this.
Ernie McCracken: For $700? No way. No. No way. For $700.
[grabs the money out of Roy's pocket]
Ernie McCracken: What have you got here? Fifteen-hundred. For $1500. Guys, you want some of the "action", as he calls it.
Bowling Priest: [to the hustlers] Come on, you chickenshits. I'm good for the money, put up my share.
Ernie McCracken: Now, Mr. Bigshot! Mr. "I wear my pants high and I pick up every spare... drunk or sober!"
Beaver Bowl Hustler: Alright, we'll take that bet.
Ernie McCracken: Fine, my friend, my so-called friend. Take your silly little ball and make your silly little spare... Or miss it!