The Burbs (1989)

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: I'm a broken man because of you, Art.

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.

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: I'm gonna go do something productive. I'm gonna go watch television.

Art: Safety is my middle name.
Ray Peterson: I thought his middle name was Louis.

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

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

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

Mark Rumsfield: Rumsfield's the name. Don't think I caught yours, sonny?
Hans Klopek: H-H-Hans.
Mark Rumsfield: Hans! Oh-ho! A fine Christian name. Hans Christian Andersen! What are you, Catholic?

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?

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

Art Wiengartner: I don't know if you've noticed, but there's bars on the basement windows here.
Ray Peterson: They've got holes in their porch, too.
Art Wiengartner: Argh! That was a booby trap.
Ray Peterson: Are you okay?
Art Wiengartner: Yeah.
Ray Peterson: Oh, booby trap. I'm not gonna pay for that.
Art Wiengartner: We shouldn't pay for that, we should sue them.

Mark Rumsfield: Art.
Bonnie Rumsfield: Your wife is home.
Mark Rumsfield: And your house is on fire.
Art: My wife is home?

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

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

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?

Reuben: Mind your own business! mind your OWN business.
Ray Peterson: Okay.

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