Gus: Clark, don't pick your nose in front of me, please.
Clark: I'm not picking, I'm scratching.
Gus: What are you scratching? Your brain?
Clark: Yeah, 'cause it's huge.
Richie: He just did that steroid free!
Clark: What's steroids?
Richie: Something that makes your pee-pee smaller.
Clark: Ohh... there must be steroids in macaroni!
Gus: I think this is a sign that you should get a car.
Clark: My mom said I should hold off on getting my license for another year. [Extends arms forward and then retracts] You know, just to make sure my reflexes are fully developed.
Howie: I`m not afraid of the sun anymore.
Wayne: That`s good, buddy. How's the moon treating you?
Howie: Not a fan!
Howie: That's so great...what does all the way mean?
Wayne: [whispers in Howie's ear]
Howie: [squeezes suntan lotion and screams] Aaaaaah!
Number 7 Robot: Ha-ha-ha! I heard you stunk!
Clark: Shut up, Number 7!
Number 7 Robot: You shut up!
Clark: I'll kill you!
Number 7 Robot: Oh shit!
Clark: Gus!
Richie: Gus!
[Gus is busy mowing a lawn and cannot hear them calling]
Clark: He can't hear us.
[He picks up a rock in Gus' yard and throws it at Gus' lawn mower in an attempt to get his attention. Gus runs over the rock and it blasts out, accidentally hitting Richie in the groin]
Richie: [Falls on the ground] Ohh! Ah...
Gus: [Finally hearing them] Hey fellas. [Walks over to them] You okay, Richie?