The Burbs (1989)

Mark Rumsfield: There go the Goddamn brownies.

Ricky Butler: Hey, Mrs. Rumsfield, no tan lines. Looks nice.
Mark Rumsfield: That kid next door's a meatball.

Ray Peterson: So they keep to themselves, can you blame them? They live next door to people who break in their house, and burn IT down while they're gone for the day.

Ray Peterson: Infra-red night vision scopes? What are we going to do next, tap their phones line?
Mark Rumsfield: That can be arranged.

Ray Peterson: You wanna take that out of your pocket? You wanna not steal that from Walter's house, please?

Ray Peterson: No, Art, see, they're gonna think that I did it. Yeah, they are.
Art Wiengartner: Why?
Ray Peterson: Well the old guy... He saw me write a note and put it underneath Walter's door SO NOW THEY'RE gonna think that I DID IT.
Art Wiengartner: ...You wrote a note?

Hans Klopek: Sardine?
Bonnie Rumsfield: I'm trying to cut back.

Art: Hey, hey, hey. Who the heck ordered the blood shake? Hey, Ray, it's not Skip. It's me, Art. I'm just pretending to be Skip. Say, you didn't happen to see an ice pick around here, did you?

Carol Peterson: He can't come out until he resembles the man that I married.
Art: Carol, We don't have that kind of time.

Mr. Rumsfield: Affirmative. That garbage is going nowhere. I say we wait till first light. Scope me.

Art Wiengartner: Go ahead, tell him, Ray. We got the goods on them, don't we? You know, some day they're going to dig up the back of that yard and they're gonna find the rest of that skeleton to go with that femur. Oh it might not be Walter but it's gonna be some.
Ray Peterson: Shut up. shut UP, ART, shut UP! God, you don't know when to quit, do you? Look at me! I'm a shell of a man because of you, Art.

Mark Rumsfield: I know you're in there, old man! Listen up, mister! That piece of scum barking rat of yours has just taken his last dump on my lawn! I find one more - just one - I'm gonna catch him and staple his ass shut.

Art Wiengartner: Ray, do you want 'em to take your family, kidnap 'em, tear their livers out and make some kind of satanic pâté?

Art: Apparently their last house, it only... burned to the ground.
Ray Peterson: Really?
Art: Yeah, a hideous raging inferno.

Art: Wait, hold it, garbies! Garbies, garbage men! Hold on a minute, wait a sec! Wait. Wait, wait, hold it. What are you doing?
Vic, Garbageman #1: Emptying garbage.
Art: Into the garbage truck? What are you, out of your mind?

Carol Peterson: Where are you going?
Ray Peterson: I can't walk anywhere without you asking me where I'm going - I'm going to Paris, France, okay? I'm going to Banff, Canada, all right? That's where I'm going.
Carol Peterson: Are you taking the dog?
Ray Peterson: Yeah, yeah, I'm taking the dog for a walk.

Ricky Butler: Green sky at morning, neighbor take warning.
Ray Peterson: Green sky at night?
Ricky Butler: Neighbor take flight?

Vic, Garbageman #1: The question here is garbage. Who picks up this mess?
Mr. Rumsfield: Who picks up this mess? Well you're going to pick up the mess, because you are a garbage man.
Vic, Garbageman #1: I pick up garbage from cans, not from the street.

Mark Rumsfield: Klopek... what is that, Slavic?
Reuben: No.
Mark Rumsfield: 'Bout a nine on the tension scale, Reub.

Art: I think the message to, uh, psychos, fanatics, murderers, nutcases all over the world is, uh, "do not mess with suburbanites." Because, uh, frankly we're just not gonna take it any more. Ya know, we're not gonna be content to look after our lawns and wax our cars, paint out houses. We're out to get them, Don, we are out to get them.