A recently widowed woman is on the road with her precocious young son, determined to make a new life for herself as a singer.

[last lines]
Tommy: [final lines] You really love David, don't you?
Alice: Yep, I do.
Tommy: Yeah, I like him too, I just hate his taste in music. He always said you could fight with somebody and still like him.
Alice: Hey, now you're using your old noggin! Thanks pal!
[hugs and kisses]
Alice: My boy!
Tommy: Mom, mom, I can't breathe!
David: [Tommy's milking a cow] Hey, Tommy, watch the fingernails.
Tommy: Well, Christ, she's got tits the size of cucumbers. What do you expect?
Alice: Ahem. I don't know where he gets that language, I really don't.
Tommy: Think real hard, it'll come to you, lady.
Flo: She went to shit and the hogs ate her!
Alice: Mott the Hoople AGAIN?
Flo: I could lay under you, eat fried chicken and do a crossword puzzle at the same time; that's how much you bother me.
Audrey: Tucson's the weird capital of the world... WEIRD.
Audrey: [as Audrey is leaving the police station] So long, suckers!
Tommy: [to Alice, disparaging David's style of music] Shit-kicking! shit-kicking! shit-kicking!
Alice: [after Tommy, was being a smart aleck] If you open your mouth, once more, I swear to God, I'm gonna nail it shut.
Tommy: [Opens his mouth]
Alice: I'm warning you, Tommy. I'm gonna throw you out, and you're gonna walk the last mile home.
[Tommy makes, faces at his mother]
Alice: Get out!
[Kicks Tommy, out of the car, and Alice drives away]
Tommy: Put in another quarter and try again...
Tommy: Life is short.
Alice: Yeah, well, so are you.
Alice: I don't sing with my ass!
Alice: [while driving Tommy home from the police station] Ya look like you've been embalmed.
David: So who's stoppin' ya?... Pack yer bags; I'll take you to Monterey... I don't give a damn about that ranch.
Tommy Hyatt: Shoot the dog. Shoot the dog. Shoot the dog.
Tommy: He asked us out there Sunday.
Alice: Farmer John's just gonna have to get along without me, I can tell you that.
Tommy: I want to go.
Alice: No.
Tommy: [Jumping on the couch] Yes!
Alice: No!
Tommy: YES!
Alice: NO!
Tommy: [Kicks the couch] Shit!
Alice: I AM a singer.
Ben: [Brandishing a switchblade, at Rita] If you don't drag your ass, out that door or, I'll cut you. I'll cut your ass
[Kicks Rita, on the backside]
Ben: , GET OUT!
Tommy: Mom, are we in Arizona yet?
Alice: If you ask me that one more time, I'm gonna beat you to death. Just sit back there and relax and enjoy life, huh?
Tommy: Life is short.
Alice: So are you.

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