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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
No women, no buddies...
You had a good thing going and you ruined it.
Fine. Your dad's on Mars.
Well, this is a contract, and it is my electronic signature,
¶ ¶
-Twice. -Yeah.
-(tires screeching) -(grunting)
Remember last year? His plus-one?
They had a wonderful life with that fiddler in the shtetl.
Whoa! Quit scaring us!
NELSON: A grenade launcher!
Uh, excuse me, Krusteleh.
Oh, do my ears deceive me?
Uh, look, Moe, I'll tell you how to get her back, okay?
We've been using the back door.
Yeah, I understand. I won't tell no one I'm invited.
(sighs) I don't know how I feel right now, Moe.
Ana, you're a scam artist.
Ima Buttface? Haw haw!
And what I'm having for dinne.
But ours are thin, with ropey muscles.
Young lady, you should be so lucky
My sweet Moe, there is no way to fake what we have.
It's me. I can't take another heartbreak.
I promise you a safe, happy time.
we're keeping Thanksgiving super small this year.
and, oh, boy, I'm sorry to say this, but, uh...
(all gasp)
("Mars" by Gustav Holst plays)
101 spongebob squidward mr krabs patrick call annoumance beep beep
MY HUSBAND, MY HOME
Walnut?
¶ Three little children to do? ¶
Excuse me. How can mail-order brides