Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

It kind of feels like there's a litter of kittens in there trying to claw their way out.

That wasn't it.

Stand in the place where you were.

And twelve hours a day on the Migra 2000 to keep my rear end from putting too much drag on my throat.

More full of pity than usual.

If something should happen and, well, I'm not able to enjoy life the way I'm able to now, like, well, being able to eat as many Fritos as I like, or pulling ticks off the cat, or watching bananas get those little brown spots on them.

Don't worry, you'll get your voice back soon.

Well, Doc, what would happen if I just left them in?

Well, I've made my peace with the world, and now I'm ready to face the unknown like a man.

Well, that does it.

Which is so ironic because dogs are allergic to cotton candy, except of course the poodle.

I feel a lot better now.

Oh, wait, wait, wait.

They say there's no therapy.

They're much more courteous and quicker than taxi cabs.

I guess tomorrow I've got to start practicing talking out of other parts of my body.

Now wait a second.

They got to you, didn't they?

And doctors are all perfect, aren't they?