Ralphie as an Adult: Mothers know nothing about creeping marauders burrowing through the snow toward the kitchen where only you and you alone stand between your tiny, huddled family and insensate evil.
Ralphie: Mom, this is just the same old dumb parade as last year.
Mother: Ralphie, will you please calm down?
Ralphie: Mom!
Mother: Hush!
The Old Man: Shut up, Ralphie!
The Old Man: I told you not to use Lifebuoy!
Mother: [Playing Santa] And this is for Daddy...
[Picks up a gift-wrapped bowling ball and drops it in The Old Man's Lap]
Mother: Here, from me to you.
The Old Man: [high-pitched] Thanks a lot!
The Old Man: It could be a bowling alley!
Mother: How are they going to deliver a bowling alley here tonight?
The Old Man: They'll send the deed for cripesake. I didn't expect them to send a whole damn bowling alley.
Ralphie as an Adult: My father's spare tires were only tires on the academic sense. They were round,and had once been made of rubber.
Ralphie as an Adult: [narrating] Preparing to go to school was like getting ready for extended deep-sea diving.
Miss Shields: Where's Flick? Has anyone seen Flick?
Ralphie as an Adult: [narrating as Ralphie feigns ignorance] Flick? Flick who?
Mother: This isn't one of those trees where all the needles falls off, is it?
Christmas Tree Man: No, that's them balsams.
Ralphie as an Adult: [narrating] The heavenly aroma still hung in the house. But it was gone, all gone! No turkey! No turkey sandwiches! No turkey salad! No turkey gravy! Turkey Hash! Turkey a la King! Or gallons of turkey soup! Gone, ALL GONE!
Ralphie as an Adult: C+? Oh no, it CAN'T be!
Ralphie: C+?
Miss Shields: [in Ralphie's fantasy, dressed as the Wicked Witch] C+! C+! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Ralphie as an Adult: [narrating] Was there no end to the conspiracy of irrational prejudice against Red Ryder and his peacemaker?
Ralphie as an Adult: [chuckling] Ho, ho, but no matter. Christmas was on its way. Lovely, glorious, beautiful Christmas, upon which the entire kid year revolved.
Ralphie as an Adult: First-nighters, packed earmuff-to-earmuff, jostled in wonderment before a golden, tinkling display of mechanized, electronic joy!
