Announcer: Quite a large and economically diverse crowd here at the Michelob Invitational.

Bob Barker: Alright, Happy. Nice and easy... That was not nice and easy.

Chubbs: Spoken like a true asshole.

Announcer: We haven't seen Happy Gilmore play this badly since his first day on tour. He and Bob Barker are now dead last.
Bob Barker: I can't believe you're a professional golfer. I think you should be working at the snack bar.
Happy Gilmore: You better relax, Bob.
Bob Barker: There is no way that you could have been as bad at hockey as you are at golf.
Happy Gilmore: All right, let's go.
[Happy punches Bob in the face]
Happy Gilmore: You like that old man? You want a piece of me?!
Bob Barker: [shakes his head as he get up from the ground] I don't want a piece of you, I want the whole thing!
Happy Gilmore: The price is wrong, bitch!
[Bob chokes happy and punches him 3 times]
Bob Barker: I think you've had enough. No?
[Bob kicks Happy in the face]
Bob Barker: Now you've had enough, bitch!

Chubbs: Back in 1965, Sports Illustrated said I was going to be the next Arnold Palmer.
Happy Gilmore: Yeah? What happened?
Chubbs: They wouldn't let me play on the Pro Tour anymore.
Happy Gilmore: Ah, I'm sorry. Because you're black?
Chubbs: Hell no! Damned alligator bit my hand off!
[Shows Happy his wooden hand]
Happy Gilmore: Oh, my God!
Chubbs: Yeah. Tournament down in Florida. I hooked my ball in the rough down by the lake. Damned alligator just popped up, cut me down on my prime. He got me, but I tore one of that bastard's eyes out though. Look at that.
[Shows Happy a small glass jar with an eyeball in it]
Happy Gilmore: You're pretty sick, Chubbs.

Chubbs: Golf's no different from hockey. It requires talent and self discipline.
Happy Gilmore: Golf requires goofy pants and a fat ass. You should talk to my neighbour the accountant, probably a great golfer, huge ass.
Chubbs: Hey, I'll bet your neighbour the accountant, can't drive the ball 400 yards. I'll bet your neighbour the accountant doesn't have a shot to get on the Pro Tour!
Happy Gilmore: And how would I do that?
Chubbs: You win the Open tomorrow, and you're automatically on the Pro Tour. Then who knows, maybe you'll win the Tour Championship. Get that gold jacket that I never got.
Happy Gilmore: Gold jacket, Green jacket, who gives a shit.

Chubbs: It's all in the hips, yeah, it's all in the hips. It's all in the hips.
Happy Gilmore: Get off of me.
Chubbs: Just easing the tension, baby. Just easing the tension.
Happy Gilmore: Yeah, well ease it on someone else.

Crazy Old Lady: Mister! Mister! Get me outta here!
[Happy pours fast food over the woman's head]
Happy Gilmore: Here, eat that and leave us alone!

Grandma: Sir, um, can I trouble you for a glass of warm milk? It helps put me to sleep.
Nursing Home Orderly: You can trouble me for a warm glass of shut-the-hell-up. Now, you will go to sleep or I will put you to sleep. Check out the name tag. You're in my world now, grandma.

Grandma: What happened to that nice girlfriend of yours?
Happy Gilmore: Oh, she got hit by a car, she's dead.

Happy Gilmore: [after hitting a hole-in-one] He shoots, he scores! Oh, man. That was so much easier than putting. I should just try to get the ball in one shot every time.
Chubbs: Good plan.

Happy Gilmore: I got into this tournament for one reason: money. And now I have a new reason: kicking your ass!
Shooter McGavin: Well, I'd like to see you try.
Happy Gilmore: [Picks up beer bottle and smashes it in half] Let's do it, then!
Shooter McGavin: I meant on a golf course!
Virginia: Hey! What's going on?
Happy Gilmore: Oh, uh, I was just looking for the other half of this bottle and there's some of it and there's some of it right there, too.
Virginia: Why don't you just put it down?
Happy Gilmore: Yeah, I know.

Happy Gilmore: I'll make you a bet. If you get this puck into that net, I'll never bother you again. But if you miss, you have to give me a big fat kiss. And you have to pretend you like it too.
Virginia: Do you always carry a puck with you?
Happy Gilmore: Yeah.
[Virginia shoots puck and scores]
Happy Gilmore: Holy shit. Talk about your all time backfires.

Happy Gilmore: Looks like a slight hill. What do ya think?
Otto: And a slant to the left.
Happy Gilmore: Nah, it looks that way cause you've only got one shoe on.

Happy Gilmore: That guy's driving me crazy.
Bob Barker: You know what's driving me crazy? You not getting the ball in the hole!
Happy Gilmore: Don't push me, Bob. Now's not the time!