Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

You reckon we could turn him into a cat?

Probably just a stuffed up flu.

Swimming pooms, movie stars.

You are discharged!

Gid, where's the axe?

You want I should split it up too?

Yes, ma'am, but she ain't too happy about it right now.

Now, my secretary will be over right away to help you with the hiring of servants or whatever problems you may have.

How you know we got chicken?

Well, no matter.

You want to wrestle.

I've hit this with everything I could lay a hand to.

What's all the smoke?

You ain't neither.

Well, I hope it ain't as tough as it ain't.

Y'all come back now, hear?

And over there's where I seen that great big pink chicken.

I was referring to the game of cricket.

I reckon every man liked to have a son, and you was my only young'un.

No, no, it was crawdad.

This the big, dainty chicken you ever did see?

Someone who does the driving.

You have your end first.

I ain't even got a stovepipe.

I'm Jane Hathaway, Executive Secretary to Mr. Drysdale, and you, I take it, are a domestic of some sort, cleaning your house maid.

You're the living picture of your mom.