Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Yeah, that's right. Corky Haywood.

Blythe Baxter has been trapped! WE NEED TO GET HER OUT!

All right then, Bobby. I'll see you at the club.

Hey, old-timer.

Come on, baby. Forget about him.

I don't care whose son it is. Kid can't come in.

oh oh oh your grouneded 578978

So then, when Buck finally sunk his putt, he tried to do a little dance...

I'd be wetting myself, too, right now if I were you.

That boy give you the money and the watch?

- Hey, Bobby. How're they treating you? - Good, sir.

Name's Roy, Ray, something like that.

Take today, for instance.

Did Bobby phone home yet?

Yeah, no. Look, yeah, I got to go. Your daddy just walked in the room.

- Where is Bobby? - Well, he's still at Buck's.

Mr. Strickland went to Hot Springs, Arkansas.

- I'm giving you a warning. - You're not a cop.

Do you know who you knocked down?

Well, isn't that cheating, Mr. Strickland?

[Buck laughing]

See you tomorrow at the club, Bobby.

My reaction if Mulder finds a bizarre looking bug by his food, and crushes it with an X-File.

- You all emptied out, Carla? - Yeah.

Here. Hold onto my heart pills.

My Reaction if he's attacked and violently pulled out of his car.

Another hour-and-a-half.

Both of you go home. And I'm not giving you a mug.