- Tiffany Malloy: [cellphone in hand] Hey, Ryan, one of my friends wants to know if you are doing anything Friday or Saturday night?
- Ryan Malloy: [expectantly] No.
- Tiffany Malloy: [on cellphone] I told you. He never goes out.
- [laughs at the loser]
- Ryan Malloy: [defensively] I date plenty.
- Tiffany Malloy: Taking a Victoria's Secret catalogue to the bathroom is not a date.
- Jack Malloy: Whoa. I believe I'm looking at my Saturday night date.
- Ryan Malloy: You don't stand a chance. That's Miss Taylor, my Civics teacher. Everybody's trying to date her, every guy in this school, every teacher, including half the women teachers, no luck.
- Jack Malloy: [exuding confidence] Have some faith, oh ye of little boogie...
- [walks over]
- Jack Malloy: Hi, you come here often?
- Miss Taylor: [short dress, long loose hair, bosomy] Yeah. Every day. I'm a teacher.
- Jack Malloy: You're beautiful. You could make a fortune dancing naked for a bunch of drunks.
- Miss Taylor: Yeah, but instead I choose to earn peanuts teaching a bunch of idiots.
- Jack Malloy: [laughs] Look, we can stand here and chit-chat all night, but there are a lot of other women I could be hitting on, so do I have a shot with you or not?
- Miss Taylor: I don't know. You have that pinched, horny look of a married man.
- Jack Malloy: Actually, we just separated.
- Miss Taylor: Really? So you probably haven't had enough time to catch a sexually transmitted disease.
- Jack Malloy: Yup, tomorrow night I'm taking your teacher out, and come Monday, every kid in the school will know how your old Dad did in the sack.
- Ryan Malloy: It's okay, Dad, I was gonna drop out anyway.
- Mr. Floppy: [last lines, reading fan mail] Dear Sirs, I can tell you hate women, what gives? Art, Chicago, Illinois. Art, you couldn't be more wrong. We have several women on our staff who contribute regularly. At least, for those twenty or so days a month when they aren't unbearable.
- [imperiously]
- Mr. Floppy: Somebody bring me my carrot juice. Not you. One of the broads.
- [waits to be served, but nobody comes]
- Ryan Malloy: Hey, Dad, what do you think about a guy who sits home night after night watching television, never has a date with a woman?
- Jack Malloy: Don't worry, son, you're still young, you're probably not a homo.
- Jack Malloy: [returns, the worse for wear after his date] God! It hurts so bad!
- Mr. Floppy: Yes! Give me details. Did you pop her? Ram her? Plant the carrot? Bashed her in the bunny hutch? *Did she suffer?*
- Jack Malloy: Yes, I believe she did. You see, I got there three hours late and she was hungry. I didn't have a car, so I suggested we take a nice romantic walk to the restaurant. On our way there, my leg gave out, so she had to carry me, and... while I was holding on, I copped a cheap feel.
- Mr. Floppy: Who's the man?
- Jack Malloy: I'm the man!
- Mr. Floppy: You the man!
- Jack Malloy: No, you are the man!
- Mr. Floppy: No, I'm the figment of the man's imagination! So tell me, did you get the real thing?
- Jack Malloy: Uh, no.
- Mr. Floppy: Then you not the man.
- Jack Malloy: No, I'm not the man.
- Mr. Floppy: Then who be the man?
- Jack Malloy: Sixteen-year-old kid in a pickup truck who gave us a ride home. Nice kid, friend of Ryan's. I sat in the back with tomorrow's newspapers that he was delivering. Then she must have lost a contact lens, because she disappeared and he started to swerve. So I guess he's the man.
- Mr. Floppy: But you watched?
- Jack Malloy: Yeah, I did.
- Mr. Floppy: Then you did see the man. And that means you *the loser.*
- Jack Malloy: Yeah, that would be me.