Morty's shirt: When the hand goes up the mouth goes shut.

Mom: Don't arue with me Bradley. Now you can get rabies from a raccoon too. Tell him Morty.
Morty: That's right.

Little 6 year old kid: Mommy. Mommy. Where's my mommy?

Spaz: Hey Larry. Larry!
Larry: What?
Spaz: I think that chick over there is staring at me.
Larry: Where? What chick?
Spaz: Over there.
Larry: Your right. She is staring at ya. You better go over and talk to her. She probably wants it.
Spaz: What's cookin good lookin?
Girl: Your flys undone.

Tripper: You must be the short depressed kid we ordered.

Tripper: Attention. Here's an update on tonight's dinner. It was veal. I repeat, veal. The winner of tonight's mystery meat contest is Jeffrey Corbin who guessed "some kind of beef."

Tripper: And even if we win, if we win, HAH! Even if we play so far above our heads that our noses bleed for a week to ten days; even if God in Heaven above points his hand at our side of the field; even if every man woman and child joined hands together and prayed for us to win, it just wouldn't matter because all the really good looking girls would still go out with the guys from Mohawk because they've got all the money! It just doesn't matter if we win or if we lose. IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER!
Rest of group: IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER! IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER...

A.L: Lance please we're eatting.

Crocket: Hardware
Hardware: Yeah Crocket?
Crocket: You're a dick.

(Tripper gets them up at night.)
Larry: What is it, breakfast?

Larry: Spaz you're ripping my face off.