Everybody Loves Raymond, Season 4

Frank:
Ray, I am going to give you the secret to marital bliss.

Marie:
After you give it to him, why don't you let me in on it?

Frank:
You see, son, when your mother got pregnant with Robert, the hormones turned her into a nut case. She'd cry for no reason. Two seconds later, she'd want to cuddle! She was, like, demented!

Marie:
That's not true!

Frank:
You were always grabbin' at me!

Marie:
I was pregnant with a 14-pound baby! I needed help getting up!

Frank:
Nonetheless, did it bother me? No! Because you cannot get upset with a crazy person! I decided from that day on never to waste time trying to understand your mother. I just accept that she's insane!

Debra:
Why would you want to hear me complain about Ray?

Robert:
Perhaps we haven't met. I'm Robert Barone.

Robert:
We happen to have an opportunity here for some real personal growth through active dialogue. (Frank begins to snore. Annoyed) Stop it, Dad! Now, the two of you have to come out and say what's really bothering you and get it out in the open and deal with it, 'cause if there's one thing I've learned in my many years of experience with domestic disputes, it is this: It's never just about the can opener.

Frank:
Yeah. Sometimes it's about a jar of fat.

Marie:
(obviously Frank's hit a nerve) How could you mention that?

Frank:
I'll mention it. You went nuts over nothin'.

Marie:
I had every right to go nuts with you as a husband!

Frank:
Don't go nuts. Just go.

Debra:
(curious) Wait, wait , wait...What jar of fat? (Ray and Robert groan)

Marie:
I'll tell you what jar of fat. It was beautiful. It was fat from pancetta and golden-brown sausage. (aside) You'd have to be a cook to understand. But it was months of selecting only the best drippings to prepare meals for Il Duce.

Frank:
Yeah, you made all those meals just for me, and then you went out jogging!

Marie:
That was my kitchen! You had no right to go in there and throw out my fat!

Frank:
That jar was for my coins! I needed that!

Marie:
(yelling) You're selfish!

Frank:
(yelling back) Fat collector!

Marie:
Oh, you never appreciated me, ever! You never ever appreciated me! I would work my fingers to the bone all day with the kids, with the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry, and then you'd waltz in with your list of demands and not even a thank-you!

Debra:
That's right!

Marie:
Debra understands.

Frank:
You wanted a thank-you? Where was my thank you? I waltzed in, huh? (shouting) I dragged my ass home every day after ten hours, stuck in a suit, stuck in an office, stuck in a car, AND IF I NEEDED COINS TO PAY THE TOLLS THAT GOT ME TO THAT JOB, THAT PAID FOR THAT MEAT, THAT MADE THAT FAT, THEN I'LL DUMP IT OUT WHENEVER I WANT AND I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY!

Marie:
That's right, you don't care! You have never cared about how hard I work just to serve you!

Frank:
Hey, I don't have to care; that's your job. (Instant silence. Even Frank realizes that that might not have been the right thing to say. Robert tries to take a swig from the Pepto-Bismol bottle, only to find it's empty, so then he looks into it, then he sticks his pinky into the mouth of the bottle to try and get whatever's in there. He then takes it out and sucks on it desperately.)

Debra:
Do you realize, in a group that includes your father, you're being the most insensitive?

Ray:
Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with Dad. He must be tired. C'mon, he's okay. Laughter's the best medicine, right? I'm keeping it loose, keeping it light.

Debra:
How about keeping it shut?

Ray:
See? That's good! You should be in there with me!

Debra:
Hey, you hungry?

Andy:
Yeah, sure, I could always go for something.

Debra:
(offering the plate of braciole to Andy) I made some braciole, taste it.

Andy:
(trying to get out of it gracefully) Oh, you made...no, no, no, I'm actually--I'm in training, I'm in training for a running thing--

Debra:
Come on...

Andy:
No, no, really...And I've gone kosher. I'm in a Jewish marathon.

Debra:
(insistent) Okay, try it, one bit? Just one bite... That's it, just one... (He does, and can only stare at her in shock.)

Andy:
(beat) Run away with me.

Debra:
(happy) Really? You like it?

Andy:
(he does) Oh, my God, it's fantastic! (He sits down at the table) Mmm, Debra! I don't know what Ray's talking about!

Debra:
What do you mean, "talking about?"

Andy:
Nothing, he was just trying to be funny at work.

Debra:
Funny about what? Was he making fun of my braciole? (Andy suddenly realizes that he may have said too much)

Andy:
No, he was not. (gets up quickly and turns to leave, but Debra corners him)

Debra:
Wait, Andy, he told me he loved my braciole. What did he say to you about it?

Andy:
(trying to change the subject) Did I ever show you how I can wiggle my ears? Look at this-- (He can't really)

Debra:
(insistent) Andy, what did he say about the braciole?

Andy:
I did not find it funny--

Debra:
Andy!

Andy:
He said it was Italian for roadkill! Please don't hurt me!

Ray:
Are you sleeping with Andy? 'Cause you can do better...

Robert:
Am I sitting in sauce?

Debra:
Yes, Robert.

Robert:
(relieved) Good. I was afraid I popped a stitch.

Robert:
Well, I suppose you heard my wonderful news.

Debra:
(trying to inject some cheer) Yeah, three more weeks.

Robert:
(dour) Three more weeks.

Debra:
(even more cheerful) No, listen...three more weeks!

Robert:
Well, when you say it like that... Here, let me try. (with the same overdone optimism as Debra, but it sounds caustic from him) Bubonic plague!