SAM: What's new, Normie? NORM: Terrorists, Sam. They've taken over my stomach and they're demanding beer. -- Cheers
SAM: What'd you like, Normie? NORM: A reason to live. Give me another beer. -- Cheers
SAM: What'll you have Normie? NORM: Well, I'm in a gambling mood, Sammy. I'll take a glass of whatever comes out of that tap. SAM: Looks like beer, Norm. NORM: Call me Mister Lucky. -- Cheers
WOODY: What's the story, Mr. Peterson? NORM: The Bobbsey twins go to the brewery. Let's cut to the happy ending. -- Cheers
WOODY: Hey, Mr. Peterson, there's a cold one waiting for you. NORM: I know. If she calls, I'm not here. -- Cheers
WOODY: How's it going, Mr. Peterson? NORM: Poor. WOODY: I'm sorry to hear that. NORM: No, I mean pour. -- Cheers
WOODY: Pour you a beer, Mr. Peterson? NORM: All right, but stop me at one. Make that one-thirty. -- Cheers
WOODY: What's going on, Mr. Peterson? NORM: The question is what's going in Mr. Peterson? A beer please, Woody. -- Cheers
WOODY: How would a beer feel, Mr. Peterson? NORM: Pretty nervous if I was in the room. -- Cheers
WOODY: Hey, Mr. Peterson, what's up? NORM: The warranty on my liver. -- Cheers
SAM: What do you say, Norm? NORM: Any cheap, tawdry thing that'll get me a beer. -- Cheers
COACH: What would you say to a beer, Normie? NORM: Daddy wuvs you. -- Cheers
SAM: What do you know there, Norm? NORM: How to sit. How to drink. Want to quiz me? -- Cheers
COACH: Can I draw you a beer, Norm? NORM: No, I know what they look like. Just pour me one. -- Cheers
CLIFF: Hey, Norm, What's up? NORM: My blood-alcohol level. -- Cheers