Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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