Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Good morning, Miss Hayes.

-How did you find us? -Followed you from Mr. Guy's place.

Oh, David, I wanted to build something here.

He said Cubs were gonna win the World Series.

Delivery for Madelyn Hayes.

That's no way to talk with a dead body in Miss Hayes' office.

Is this the third act? It's some sort of plan.

-Somebody wants the half of that ticket. -Can you blame them?

-It wobbles. -Nonsense.

...his office and the locker at his gym.

Nice enough, but I don't rent to cigar smokers.

-They were looking for something else. -Mr. Guy was lying to us?

We left the shovels in the pickup truck.

Yeah, come on now.

...10 percent of the jackpot seem fair?

That's not possible. He was fine last time I saw him.

And you were the Grim Reaper. It was frightening.

-All right. -Just bring them right in here.

-It wobbles. -It looks all right to me.

-Follow my finger with your eye. -I'm busy.

David, well, if you didn't trip me, who did?

It'd make death easier to deal with.

My spider sense tells me we are in the money.

I can't remember the last time I had this much fun.

You can't be. You haven't distinguished yourself in this incarnation.

-Come on. Come with us. -We'll take you over to your plot.

Don't you wanna look back on your life and say, "I accomplished something?"

...to an interested third party.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Where are you going?

I can't do this.

Did anybody see--?

But unlike you, I can admit to being a tad superstitious.

I am not speaking to you.

You hear that? Maybe it's him trying to contact us from the other side.

Maybe I should send everyone home. You know, out of respect.

I don't wanna know what this feels like.

You don't wanna catch your death of cold, do you? And I do mean death.

Losing at strip poker.

This conversation isn't happening.

-He's gone. -Chilling champagne at some shindig.

Now you'll be toasty. Perfect fit.

Don't suppose you would know if Harry had the ticket on him when--