[Marsh family house; The family (minus Shelley) is having dinner at the dining table]
Why'd you have to rub your clit on stage, Dad?
I was told to.
You were told to walk out in front of 100,000 people, including little girls who look up to you, and start rubbing your clit?
Okay, hold on. "A," I don't have a clit, so, technically, I wasn't rubbing anything. And "B," I didn't want to even perform tonight, but Stanley gave all our money to Canada through a freemium game, so if anyone rubbed their clit, it was him!
[annoyed] Pff. [gets up from his seat and leaves the dining room, and so does Sharon, leaving Randy by himself alone]
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