Uncle Red:
"Where's your mom?"
Marty:
"She and Dad are out back lighting the barbeque, yeah, and Jane's walking around in all these new clothes showing off her tits, acting like no one ever had tits before her."
Uncle Red:
"I understand that my niece and nephew have been sending little love letters to the local minister suggesting he gargle with broken glass, or eat a rat-poison omelette!"
Jane:
"Oh, I hate you, you booger!"
Marty:
"You know who used to have a baseball bat like that? Mr. Knopfler."
Uncle Red:
"So?"
Marty:
"It looked like Bigfoot had used it for a toothpick!"
Maggie Andrews:
"What is it, Bobby? You gonna make lemonade in your pants?"
Milt Sturmfuller:
"Damn cripples. Always ending up on welfare. I'd electrocute 'em all if there weren't so goddamn many."
Uncle Red:
"What the heck you gonna shoot a silver .44 bullet at anyway?"
Mac:
"How 'bout a werewolf?"
Uncle Red:
"I feel like a virgin on prom night!"
Herb:
"Its under the fog!"
Bobby:
"No, its behind us. I told you we should've turned back Andy. You can't trust this fog!"
Uncle Red:
"Holy jumped up bald-headed Jesus palomina. From him I'd expect it. Sometimes I think your common sense got paralysed along with your legs. But from you Jane? You're Miss Polly Practical!"
Reverend Lowe:
"You meddling little shit!"
Uncle Red:
"I'm a little too old to be playing "Hardy Boys meet Reverend Werewolf"!"
Jane:
"In the make believe stories a man becomes a werewolf only when the moon is full. Maybe somehow it's different. Maybe he's like this all the time."
Marty:
"This one's for the good guys!"
Herb:
"Its right here with us!
(Growling can be heard)"
Andy:
"Oh shit! Run! Run!"
Uncle Red:
"There are no such things as werewolves!"