- Wilbur Post: Ed, I want you to consider me your two-legged father.
- Mister Ed: That would not work. Every day when I was little, I would always walk around singing "What Kind of Foal Am I?"
- Wilbur Post: Ed, if you're so obsessed with looking for your biological father, why not go visit your mother? Find out what happened to your father.
- Mister Ed: No! You think I haven't done that before? Every time I bring up the subject, Mom starts balling her eyes out. Crying and unable to stop.
- Wilbur Post: Your father walked out on her?
- Mister Ed: I guess. All I know is that she got custody of me.
- Wilbur Post: Yes, but when your mother was sold, I got custody of you, which makes me your father.
- Mister Ed: No, no, no! I want my true, four-legged father!
- Wilbur Post: Gordon, what are you doing here? I thought you would go down to Tijuana for the weekend to watch the bullfights.
- Gordon Kirkwood: That's not as much as thrilling and fun to see your father-in-law stick his horns into you.
- Wilbur Post: [holding bug spray] Hold still, I'll get that fly for you. He's on the tip of your newspaper.
- [Wilbur sprays the bug spray, but the spray hits Carol's dad, bearly missing his face]
- Wilbur Post: Dad, I'm sorry! The nosile must be on backwards.
- Mr. Hergesheimer: You head is on backwards, you kook!
- Gordon Kirkwood: [enters laughing] Wilbur, I just saw the whole thing. If that's your way of making friends, how do you make enemies?
- Wilbur Post: I don't know. I can't explain it. Around my father-in-law... I just... I am not myself.
- Gordon Kirkwood: [still giddy] Well, who ever you are you're not his type!
- Wilbur Post: I just can't explain it. I need to make him happy because if he's not happy, Carol is not happy. I am so afraid around him, I just can't think straight or do anything right. You know, if I had any sense I'd do it.
- Gordon Kirkwood: Do what?
- Wilbur Post: Sit out the entire two weeks that he's here in his airport locker.
- Gordon Kirkwood: [over Wilbur's ecentricity] I wonder if they have get well cards for his type of sickness.
- Wilbur Post: Well, your father's plane will be arriving in about an hour. I'd better go down to the airport to pick him up.
- Carol Post: You better let me go pick him up.
- Wilbur Post: Why? Don't you trust me to make a simple drive to LAX and pick him up and drive him back here to our house?
- Carol Post: The last time you went to pick him up last year for his visit, you came home with the suitcases, but left Dad at the airport!
- Wilbur Post: How many times do I have to apologize for that? I keep telling you it wasn't all my fault. You know your father never speaks to me. How was I supposed to know that he wasn't sitting in the back seat?