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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Hug the rail. It won't go in, but you set up an easy deuce.
-Are you afraid to make a real bet? -No, I just--
-Hi, Lisa. -Hi, Mrs. Norton.
Sorry, Marge. I'm just steamed up about that jerk Flanders.
The unknown Bart Simpson and Todd Flanders...
Simpson, I feel silly, but what the hay?
Neddie, you're tossing. What's the matter?
Newsflash, Lisa. Bart is not a horse. Eat your steak, boy.
Here it is: Putting.
But, Bart, how can sound exist if there's no one there to hear it?
It wouldn't matter anyway The mating call of the loser
Don't backpedal. You were right.
We've only been neighbors for one, two, three, four-- Eight years.
...against one of my wife's homemade wind chimes.
Holy moly, it's beautiful!
-Hi, Simpson, having fun? -What are you doing here?
"Dear Neighbor...."
...one of the most skilled 10-year-olds to ever play.
-I overheard you warping Bart's mind. -And?
Right. I am a pawn.
And yet I feel a great sadness in my bosom."
Better yet, you have to mow my lawn in your wife's Sunday dress!
Homer, our kids showed us something today, huh?
Your beer is from farther away. You and your son like each other.