Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

- What are you talking about? - Has your son died yet?
- What are you talking about? - Has your son died yet?
with a penchant for swimming up a man's urethra.
That means he wants to operate on you...
I never met my grandfather.
You have your orders, and I got mine.
Can you get me a Fresca?
See? Now we're talking here, huh?
Dad, can't you fix this! Aren't you a doctor?
Everything is fine, Doc.
Thanks... I guess.
Try "T" for "The Monarch!"
and let me tell you...
No.
I do hope you don't already have one.
- The shark? - No!
I'm taking Dean back to the Amazon...
I want the captives to see it.
My no-nos hurt.
Over and out!
Oh, yeah. The Zoocreeper.
Just look at you schmucks!
I'll leave that to the religious nuts and the Republicans, thank you.
I just grew those.
Aw, sweet.
- And who may I say is calling? - Down, down!
in public...
All right, now...
Hank!
The dreaded candiru, a naughty little fish...
It is a giant Spider!
with a penchant for swimming up a man's urethra.
flows the mighty Amazon...
Please! She'd be in estrus 24/7 if she didn't lay eggs.
I don't.
Holy mackerel!
- We had a birthday party. - Hey, Pop!
You scream, I'll break your neck.
- Really? - Maybe.
- Oh, great. - Dean?
I'm not even going with you.
Go Team Venture!
Take it easy, Dean.
Go see a doctor.
Man, this is sad.
This is where it all happens.
Well, duh! You all should be feeling the sting in your nethers...
Oh, you're real fun.
blah, blah, blah.
So let's cut the monkey business.
Nurse? You said I was your technician.
You make some "I'm gonna get Dr. Venture" speech...
Is it so hard to pull a handle?
We don't have a helicopter.
OK, then, guard him!
I want the captives to see it.
you know when you're eating peanuts...
He's been pulling that boy genius crap...
Well, it doesn't mean I never wash it.
I could give him that.
so if we... what? Is that blood all over you?
I don't approve of the way she dresses.
You two haven't been experimenting with inappropriate touching?
sharp henchmen in peak physical condition.
The location of my flying cocoon is highly secretive.
Fair enough. Number Twenty-Seven!
Bye-bye.