John Henderson: We're in the 90s, mother. It's fancy jam time.
John Henderson: Stop. No more food. It's like fantasia.
John Henderson: You're running a food museum here.
Beatrice Henderson: I'm sorry, John. I wasn't listening.
Beatrice Henderson: I love you.
John Henderson: I know you think you do, Mother.
Beatrice Henderson: We're not intimate dear. We just have sex occasionally.
Soundtrack: And here's to you, Mrs. Henderson. Your grown son is moving back today. Hey, hey, hey. God help him please, Mrs. Henderson. He looks to you to help him with his life. He lost a wife - again.
John Henderson: I know why she hates me! I know why she hates me! I know why she hates me.
