Chapter 3.2 - Bluthsum

And the soup of the day is bread. Buster, what are you doing with mother's rape horn? Yes, she happens to be more experienced than a normal girl, but sometimes love should be… terrifying. I hear the jury's still out on science.

Are you sure this isn't her sister? Mrs Veal: What a lovely thing to say. Michael: That's an awful thing to say. You need to do more with Rita. Believe me, I'd like to. I just haven't had sex in a month. You know, you've been here two months. It's hard to gauge time. Taste the happy, Michael. Taste it. It tastes kind of like sad.

Let me take off my assistant's skirt and put on my Barbra-Streisand-in-The-Prince-of-Tides ass-masking therapist pantsuit. Say something that will terrify me. Lindsay: F*** me. Tobias: No, that didn't do it. And I wouldn't just lie there, if that's what you're thinking. That's not what I WAS thinking. No one was making fun of Andy Griffith. I can't emphasize that enough. Oh, I don't have any drugs for sale, unless… did you want me to follow you to your car? I prematurely shot my wad on what was supposed to be a dry run, so now I'm afraid I have something of a mess on my hands. I'll buy you a hundred George Michaels that you can teach to drive!

Way to plant, Ann! ♪♪ It's The Final Countdown ♪♪ Heart attack never stopped old big bear!

Of course. The "Bob Loblaw Law Blog." Wow. You, sir, are a mouthful! No, it's the opposite. It's like my heart is getting hard. So, what do you say? We got a basket full of father-son fun here. What's Kama Sutra oil? Maybe it's not for us. I know, I just call her Annabelle cause she's shaped like a… she's the belle of the ball! Tobias Fünke costume. She calls it a Mayonegg. This is the best free scrapbooking class I've ever taken! Maybe it was the eleven months he spent in the womb. The doctor said there were claw marks on the walls of her uterus.

However, she mistook the drowsy eye alcohol warning for a winking eye alcohol suggestion. I need a fake passport, preferably to France… I like the way they think. You can control your bladder when you're dead! Heyyyy Uncle Father Oscar.

O-kay, who'd like a banger in the mouth? Speaking of settling, how's Ann? How am I supposed to find someone willing to go into that musty old claptrap? I don't want no part of yo tight-ass country-club, ya freak bitch! I know she's a brownish area! With points! And I love her! Why are you squeezing me with your body?

I hate the Wetlands. They're stupid and wet, and there are bugs everywhere, and I think I maced a crane. Can't a guy call his mother pretty without it seeming strange? Amen. And how about that little piece of tail on her? Cute! She's not that Mexican, Mom. She's my Mexican. And she's Columbian or something. This was a big get for God. Interfere? I ought to pull down your pants and spank your ass raw. Michael: I'm sorry, have we met? You can always tell a Milford man. So did you see the new Poof? His name's Gary and we don't need anymore lawsuits.

I will pack your sweet pink mouth with so much ice cream you'll be the envy of every Jerry and Jane on the block! [climbing under trampoline] This shall keep me safe from the hot Mexican sun.

Mom always taught us to curl up in a ball and remain motionless when confronted. Let's make Ann the backup, okay? Very good way to think about her, as a backup. Michael was concerned that he was caught in a lie about his family. The family was concerned that they were being confronted by a woman they had clubbed, drugged, and left on a bench. Her lawyers are claiming the seal is worth $250,000. And that's not even including Buster's Swatch. I deceived you, mom. Tricked makes it sound like we have a playful relationship. And I wouldn't just lie there, if that's what you're thinking. That's not what I WAS thinking. Oh, COME ON!

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