[after Peter's Who's The Boss? theme is picked for the Harvest Festival Parade]
Lois: Peter, it's great they picked your theme, but isn't it a little esoteric?
Peter: Esoteric? [camera zooms to a conference room with six men inside Peter's brain]
Man 1: Could it mean "sexy"?
Man 2: I think it's a science term.
Man 3: Fellas, fellas, esoteric means "delicious".
Peter: Lois, Who's the Boss? is not a food.
Brian: Swing and a miss.
Meg: I have no friends and it's all because of this stupid purse.
Peter: [grabs Meg's bag and shakes it] What did you do to my daughter?! I swear to God, if you touched her...
Lois: Peter! [to Meg] Honey, what happened?
Brian: It's amazing, Peter. You've inspired the whole neighborhood to work together.
Peter: You know what's really amazing? I haven't brushed my teeth in three days, and no one has said a thing.
Lois: You lied to them!
Peter: Y-you told Child Services that we steal lawn mowers, cheat on our taxes and worship some guy named Stan.
Bonnie: Um, actually, I said Satan. That's a typo.
Sandy Balfour: Hello?
Quagmire: [wakes up, stern] Hey, get the hell off my la... Well hello, lips, legs, breasts and ass.
Quagmire: Tuesdays in the '80s I was always in bed by 8:00 and home by 11:00. Oh!
Peter: I'd like to propose a toast to our neighbors. Sure they might be black, handicapped, and a heartless sex-hound, but hey, if they moved out some smelly Hawaiians might move in.
Sandy Balfour: [lying in bed] Mmm, Glenn, honey, I have a question for you. What do you do for a living?
Quagmire: Hey, I have a question for you too. Why are you still here?
Stewie: Michael Flatley must be turning over in his grave... Wait a minute, he's not dead...yet. [writes his notebook] Michael Flatley.
Stewie: Good God, I've been adopted by a Benetton ad!
Lois: Excuse us. We're having a small problem with home security.
Peter: Do you guys have those round metal things that you bury in the ground, and when you step on them, they explode?
Sales Clerk: Land mines?
Lois/Peter: Land mines!
Peter: It was land mines.
Peter: Wait a minute! Meg, when did you become a teenager?
Lois: She's 16, Peter.
Peter: You knew about this?
Stewie: [when Peter falls through the chimney to get Stewie from his foster family] Oh, Hosanna! It's the lesser of two evils!
Peter: Oh, you people can kiss the fattest part of my ass.
Stewie: What's that? Oh yeah. I love crack, I'm absolutely coo-coo for crack.
Stewie: [to the other foster kids] I've got a better idea, let's go play "Swallow the Stuff Under the Sink".
Stewie: [to his foster parents who won't give him pancakes] Damn it! I want pancakes! God, you people understand every language except English! Yo quiero pancakes! Donnez-moi pancakes! Click-click-bloody-click pancakes!
Sandy: Let me guess...all out of puppy chow? What an awful home for a child.
Lois: How dare you! This is a wonderful home. [a shotgun blast is heard offscreen]
Peter: Quagmire, ya rat bastard, come near my fence again, and it'll be your head!
Quagmire: Hey, shut up!
Joe: Peter wanted the trophy the most.
Peter: I couldn't have stolen the trophy. Last night I was stealing Joe's ladder so I could steal the trophy tonight.
Peter: What? It's a ladder, he's not gonna use it. That's like taking a watch off a dead guy.
Kevin Swanson: [helping cut wood while working on the float] My dad always said, "Measure twice, cut once."
Cleveland Jr.: My daddy always says, "Cleveland Jr., quit jumping on the bed!" [laughs; starts cutting the wood]
Kevin Swanson: We didn't measure! We didn't measure!
[while at the Child Services agency]
Chris: So this is where babies come from?
Brian: Yes, Chris. This is where babies come from.
Chris: [to Lois] You told me I came out of your vagina!
Mrs. Stevens: I promise it will never happen again.
Child Services Worker: I hope not Mrs. Stevens, because next time we won't just take him away, we'll kill him.
[The foster parents are aiming a gun at Peter as he holds Stewie in front of himself]
Stewie: No! Don't shoot! [He wiggles out of his overalls and runs off as Peter is left holding his clothes] Now shoot!
Peter: My theme, my trophy!
Quagmire: My aunt Fanny!
[after the trophy is discovered missing by Peter]
Lois: [rushes outside] Peter, what is it?
Cleveland: [rushes outside also] What's going on out here?
Joe: [rushes outside with his gun] Clear the way! I'm a cop! [fires his gun] Oh, my God! I thought the safety was on. I'm so sorry.
Charlton Heston: [shot] That's okay, son. It's your right as an American citizen.
Peter: And Joe, I've had new neighbors before, but none of them were half the man you are. Since you're half a man already, that splits them into some kind of fraction I can't even measure.
Peter: Yeah, our neighborhood hasn't been this united since Quagmire figured out how to get us free cable.
[cutaway to Peter, Quagmire, and Cleveland beating up the cable guy]
Cleveland: We are not bad people. We just don't want to pay $12 a month for Cinemax.
Cleveland: Perhaps someone could enlighten me as to the whereabouts of our Golden Clam?
Quagmire: Maybe it fell.
Peter: Yeah. Right into someone's pocket.
Bonnie: You think one of us stole it?
Peter: I never said the word "stole." Looks like someone has a guilty conscience.
Joe: Guilty conscience! Ha! I'm the only guy on this block who actually pays for his cable.
Cleveland: Pretty high and mighty for a man who left our nation's flag out in the rain last Fourth of July. That's against the law, Officer!
Quagmire: You're one to talk. Out there every trash day picking through my garbage. That's an invasion of my privacy.
Loretta: He's sorting your recycling because he loves our Mother Earth. If you weren't so busy trolling for booty all the damned time, you could do it yourself, like the law says you should.
Rod Serling: I offer you a recipe. Combine one part small-town neighborhood with a dash of missing trophy and what you're left with is a gumbo fit only for a madman. A gumbo served almost exclusively in The Twilight...
Peter: Hey, who the hell is that? I bet he took the trophy! Get him!
[when everyone runs into each other at the hardware store]
Loretta: [clears throat]
Stewie: No! No, I won't! Get that puree of loathsomeness away from me!
Lois: But you love mashed turkey and peas.
Stewie: I'm sorry. What was that? I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Did you just tell me what I love? Hmm? Write this down, you toad-faced frump. I love pancakes!
Indian Baby: Stewie, would you like to learn how to wrap a turban?
Stewie: Why don't you teach it to the Chinese girl? Or perhaps she can learn after her people invade your country.
Indian Baby: Yee, would your people really do this?
Stewie: Oh, try and stop them. And try and stop Pablo's people from using drug money to buy arms from Li's countrymen, who will in turn sell them to Ura's people so they can ethnically cleanse the rest of this nauseatingly diverse grab bag of genetic party favors you call a family. So now you all understand, yes? You all hate each other?
Peter: [after he falls through the chimney] Oh, hey, kids. I'm Santa Claus. Just practicing for Christmas.
Indian Baby: But you're white. Jack and Sarah told me Santa is Indian.
African Baby: Don't be stupid! Santa is black!
Indian Baby: Santa can't be black. We do not fear him.
Li: Cram it, Gandhi! Santa is Asian.
Pablo: How can he be Asian? Santa doesn't drive his sled 20 miles under the speed limit with his blinker on! Go back to your rice paddy, Mulan!
Rod Serling: Submitted for your approval: A family pet with the uncontrollable urge to bury shiny objects in the yard. A shameful secret that nearly buried the peace and civility of an entire neighbor...
Lois: Stewie seems a little feverish after his ordeal, and he keeps asking for pancakes. Let's just let him rest. [she and Peter leave]
Stewie: [groans] Flappy, what have you done to me? Oh, it's so hot... Now I'm freezing! Oh, what I wouldn't do for one syrup soaked bite? [his eyes widen. He sees a second Stewie crawling on the ceiling, then stops. He turns his head around à la "The Exorcist" and looks at Stewie] Aagghh!