Ralphie as an Adult: [narrating] Some men are Baptists, others Catholics; my father was an Oldsmobile man.
The Old Man: That son of a bitch would freeze up in the middle of summer on the equator!
Mother: Little pitchers!
The Old Man: Thanks... hold it! [turns off the sink, the furnace conks out] A-ha! It's a clinker! That blasted stupid furnace dadgummit! [he walks down a few stairs and falls the rest of the way down] Damn skates! [coughing] Oh, for christ's sake, open up the damper will you? Who the hell turned it all the way down? Hawkhead! Oh, blast it! Poop, flirt, rattle crap camel flirt! You blonker, frattle feet struckle frat! Of a womp sack butt, ratter bottom fodder...
Ralphie as an Adult: [narrating] In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.
The Old Man: ...smick melly whop walker. Drop dumb fratten houstickle viper!
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