Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Clear. Come on, Dave.

Shit-face. Rat-turd. Ass-licking son of a bitch.

I still might. But, Joe, 4:25 is crazy.

We're all responsible for this.

Talk some sense into these people.

It never dawned on me.

I found something. Let's not forget that.

Trick or treat!

Don't let go of the rope.

Try to get some rest.

Or maybe we were just fucked in the head.

Even fainter, I can hear a dragging sound.

and then into this tunnel...

You be all right alone? Are you sure?

Why did I expect that after you got engaged you might grow up?

Fuck the rest of you!

It's worth a shot. You coming?

Or perhaps it was because we lived life so well...

Sometimes we just have to let go.

I didn't want to hurt you again.

- But this is ours. - We did have disco.

Don't leave him alone.

that we imagined ourselves immortal...

Come on. 2:15. 2:16. 2:17.

ASS-LICKING SON OF A BITCH

All that day, I knew something was going to happen.

There are others here who would like to make a name for themselves off this.

- Nothing. - Go again.

Can I drive you home?

- Shut that off. This is personal. - Go ahead, Joe.

Nice work. Keep it up.

Come here, boy. Come on. Champ!

How can you make amends with somebody who's dead?

- Get it, babe. - You got it.

Why'd you do this to me, Joe?

YOU ASS-LICKING SON OF A BITCH

Dr.Manus, will you handle the injections?

Hey, you guys were all so eager to jump on my coattails.

I don't know how to explain it, but it lifted--

Did you find it difficult at the end, getting back?

- No money. Probably a street abortion. - It's probably her uterine artery.

I could hear it in his voice on the phone.

Want to know how I knew he was here?

- But without me-- - Or me--

Well, welcome aboard.

overwhelming the powers that be with the force of our passion for science.

Ah, Jesus. All right. Hold on a minute.

He's dead and he gets laid.

Take me down with nitrous, sodium pentathol and a refrigerated blanket.

This could be the conquest of our generation.

No one is going for four minutes.

The bed. Thank God he called a specialist.

Would you miss him, Rachel?