Married ... with Children Quotes
Peggy: Al, sweetheart, you banged your head tonight. You are having a hallucination. You're probably seriously hurt and need medical attention. Now go to sleep.
Kelly: Daddy, we don't have any food.
Al: My underwear has no elastic. Take it up with June Cleaver here.
Al: Why doesn't the world die?!
Marcy: All I know is I woke up this morning with a man in my bed. I don't even know who he is.
Al: Well, that's easy, he slept with you, he's the stupidest man on Earth.
Peggy: Al, we're talking about sex, leave it to those who do it.
Peggy: Question two, who would you rather spend the night with? A: Your wife, or B--
Al: B.
Al: Old McBundy had a farm, B-U-N-D-Y. And on this farm, this was no wife, B-U-N-D-Y. With a no wife here and a no kids there, a hooker coming over on Friday night. Big luscious hooters and a pizza and a beer there. Old McBundy had a farm, B-U-N-D-Y!
Peggy: Would you for once think about me? I am at home all day alone. You're out there around people all the time.
You know, I need some fun too.
Al: Too? Oh sure, on the surface selling women's shoes is fun. But once you cut through all the hype, the myths, the glamour, it's really very much like any minmum wage paying slow death.
Peggy: Hard day?
Al: Yeah, you?
Peggy: Oh, yeah.
Al: It must've been, even the TV's sweating.
Steve: I'm going to the game next week with Al.
Marcy: My mother's coming over next week.
Steve: Oh yeah? She gonna teach you how to bury me like she buried her three husbands?
Marcy: Steve! Are you implying that their suicides had something to do with mother?
Woman: I need shoes!
Al: Well, the blacksmith's right around the corner.
Al: $1750 for a tent to put over a house. Listen, why don't we just borrow one of your mother's mu-mus?
Aw hell, if she doesn't wash it, we won't have to pay for the poison either.
[reading Kelly's report card]
Al: F, F, F, D. What happened, Kel, you attend one?
Steve: Al, I'm horny, what are you gonna do about it?
Al: So you think I'm a loser? Just because I have a stinking job that I hate, a family that doesn't respect me, a whole city that curses the day I was born? Well, that may mean loser to you, but let me tell you something. Every morning when I wake up I know it's not going to get any better, till I go back to sleep again. So I get up, have my watered-down Tang and still-frozen Pop Tart, get in my car with no uphoulsty, no gas, and six more payments, to fight traffic just for the priviledge of putting cheap shoes on the cloven hooves of people like you. I'll never play football like I thought I would. I'll never know the touch of a beautiful woman. And I'll never again know the joy of driving without a bag on my head. But I'm not a loser. Cause despite it all, me and every other guy who will never be what he wanted to be, are still out there being what we don't want to be, forty hours a week for life. And the fact that I haven't put a gun in my mouth, you pudding of a woman, makes me a winner!
Al: [to the Ferguson] Daddy loves you!
Peggy: What does that toilet have that I don't?
Al: A job.
Al: We all have to live with our disappointments. I, of course, have to sleep with mine.
Peggy: Is that its new name?
Al: See, this is a holiday for the working guy. Celebrates all the people who work, so that all of the people who don't get to live longer and have more than he does. So, tomorrow, unless God willing I die in my sleep, I get up for me, and celebrate for me. Tomorrow, is Al Bun-Day.
Al: Greetings, vultures. Your meal ticket's here.
Marcy: You know what would happen if men had breasts?
Al: We wouldn't need women anymore?
Peggy: And if you had what other men have, I wouldn't need batteries anymore.
Al: That's what happened to my Die Hard!
Marcy: I don't know why we even need bras.
Al: Well, I think it's to keep your breasts off the plate when you eat.