- Meg Griffin: [while Peter is in Chris' room, Meg walks in, wearing nothing but a towel] Chris, our bath is ready.
- Peter Griffin: I... uh, I don't... I don't know what to do now. I... I don't have the parenting skills necessary to deal with this.
- Meg Griffin: I say we never speak of this again.
- Peter Griffin: I... I might move.
- Peter Griffin: Hey, hey, Chris, how about you and me do a secret handshake that has way too many steps to remember, all right?
- Chris Griffin: Okay.
- Peter Griffin: Shake, bump, bump, slap, pinky hook, pretend to slick your hair back, represent, bump, one spin, slap high, slap low, reverse spin, bump, explode, shake, belly rub, fake yawn, finger gun, hitchhiker, hitchhiker, shimmy shimmy sham sham, shake, shake, shake, bump, something smells and shake again. Okay, ready?
- [Chris is gone; looks out the window]
- Peter Griffin: Oh, my God, it's night time.
- Peter Griffin: Chris Griffin, will you marry me?
- Chris Griffin: What? Is it even legal for a man to marry his son?
- Peter Griffin: It is in Vermont. As long as it's a man and a man, anything goes up there.
- Peter Griffin: [during his "insanity practice"] Pinwheels! Pinwheels in my head! Voices! Angry fish!
- Chris Griffin: [while Peter and Chris are watching "Meatballs"]
- [to Peter]
- Chris Griffin: Who's the guy?
- Peter Griffin: That's not a guy. That's the hot chick!
- Chris Griffin: Where are her boobs?
- Peter Griffin: Flat with a decent face was the best we could hope for back then.
- Peter Griffin: [voice-over at the end of the episode] Interestingly, however, I did run into Chris again. It was on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. He was with another dad. I was with another son, but it was nice reminiscing about old times. For you kids watching, this is a reference to a Woody Allen movie. He also married one of his children.
- Peter Griffin: Chris, to express my love, I turn to the words of the only poet blue collar New England scumbags like me know, Robert Frost. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I ... I took the one less traveled. Now, I ain't no scholar, but if that's not a metaphor for major league butt stuff, I don't know what is.