Shag: If you can't join 'em, fued 'em? That's good thinkin' Pa.
Ma: Well, don't just stand there, Pa. Get your shootin' iron and start to fuedin' them no good ornery Hoppers. Talkin' that way about my biscuits.
Floral: Here's your lemonade, Clod. And I brung ya some of Ma's special recipe biscuits.
Clod: Oh, they looks yummy! (he takes a bite and hurts his teeth) Yeow! Ouch! Boy, them aint biscuits, them is cannonballs!
Ma: Land sakes, Pa. Not so much racket. We got company remember?
Floral: Oh, Clod. Look at the moon. Isn't it purty tonight?
Clod: Duh, yeah. It sure is. It's as purty as a hog wallerin' in the mud.
Clod: (bites into his sandwich which has Pa' hand in it and Pa yells) I think I hurt my sandwich.
Ma: Pa, quit your poutin' and come out of that corner before ya get a pointy forehead.
Ma: Oh, the Hoppers never could fight fair.