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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Get back out there with your flippers flapping,
You killed burnsum!
I, uh, better freshen up a little bit.
(humming)
But I'm in the best shape anyone is in the 1930s.
(gasps)
Sleep well, lis.
So if you must leave in a kind of a scramble,
That the human snail is, in some way, slow.
She gave it to me on her deathbed.
I finally get my man cave.
Or we both die.
(playing "when the saints go marching in")
Democratisation of the thread
You're all stuck with that.
(snores)
Tear off his drumsticks!
Hmm? What are you doing?
With the dignity expected
(humming)
(electrical crackling, bird squawks)
One of us!
Are you really, really sure?
Bart: And we looked and we saw him...
(doorbell rings)
I don't hand out candy, you son of a gritch.
Go grab all his money and vodka and gin.