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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
On a magic carpet ride
I wrote this poem for you.
Wait a minute. What is it my dad always said to me?
MAN: (SINGING) Why don't you come with me, little girl
lemon bars for your bake sale Sunday,
(VULTURES CAWING)
do something cool.
That book doesn't know how I feel.
I'm confused. Which is it?
(WHIMPERS)
Bart, that creepy kid is here.
(GASPS)
who surfs!
Like a dog or a snowman.
Yeah! Any Poindexter can throw some nuts and bolts together.
(HOMER BLEEPS)
Well, the next match is Saturday. Can you come then?
I like you, Son.
Hey, guys. This butt's for you.
And you stir it all about
KRUSTY CLOCK: It's Tuesday, the first.
That robot has given birth to a man!
ANNOUNCER 1: Well, if you ever want to see a mailbox shoot a boy,
ANNOUNCER: Round two!
This should be every boy's dream.
You guys are just in time.
I'm riding a unicycle with my pants down.
Various bug bites and wounds.
You got to name me.