[Dan and Chris arrive at an art museum]
I can't believe she thinks I have bad taste. Well, when I get back from this museum, I'll be the most educated, refined art lover that ever lived. She'll see. I mean, it's just art. How complicated could it be? What's this supposed to be, a steering wheel? This isn't helping at all. How am I supposed to tell the good art from the bad?
It's all bad. All right, back to basics. [he gets ready to light up a painting but a old security guard takes it away from him] Huh?
No open flames in the museum. [walks away with Dan's lighter]
Hey, that's my favorite lighter. You think I won't hurt an old man? I'll hurt an old man. [the security guard picks him up] Unhand me! He's getting away.
[Chris is staring at a picture of a flower, then, Dan and Chris are sitting at an museum's bench]
[while eating a fake burger] Museum food tastes like plastic.
Another reason why art must suffer.
[walks up to Dan and Chris] You can't touch the art.
Um, neither of us are touching any art, grandpa.
First of all, that's my grandpa, not yours, and second, you're sitting on a one-of-a-kind masterpiece.
The bench? The bench is art now?
And the sandwich.
[gasps] Oh. Sorry.
Wasn't there also an apple pie?
[when Chris' stomach gumbles, the security guard kick Dan and Chris out of the museum]
This whole art thing is just so frustrating. It's giving me a stomachache. I think some of that exhibit was toxic.
[reads the poster] That's him. That's the guy I should be after, the so-called "artist" who ruined my car. Come on, Chris.
I don't know. I should probably go to the hospital. I ate a whole plastic pie.
No time. We have a mission. To make Art Artstein art history. Let's go. [he bumps himself to the street painting]