Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

It's an Indian headquarter.

I'm your long lost son, Emmett.

You know, there's a bond that happens between a mother and a child, and that bond can never be broken.

I wouldn't hold my breath.

And whatever you do, do not tell Fred and Gladys.

Larry, I have no choice.

We even took a picture of you with them.

I guess I ought to accept your humble, simple ways.

Good morrow to you.

They probably haven't seen a movie since Spartacus.

So, what do you say we all come inside, shoot the bull, and throw back some brews?

I found out that I'm adopted.

No, of course not.

What, do you guys have a gambling problem or something?

You called me Emmett.

Like the $10,000 you paid for me on the black market.

I'll fit in fine.

Chris, they're Amish.

Sir, if we fed you, would you leave us?

Hey, you know, since this is kind of, well, kind of a backwards sort of family reunion of sorts, um, what do you say we get one of those where are they now pictures, huh?

I'm wracked with guilt.

Which is exactly what guilty people do when they sweep adopted dirt underneath the rug.

The people you sold me to were very good to me, and I've returned home as your sugar daddy.

Gee, so you got ten grand for me and, uh, you still live like this?

For better or worse, we're mirror images.

Hey, listen, do you mind if I keep this outfit?

Oh, my, you don't have to put up a front for me any longer.

Not to tell us what?

Well, yeah, Larry.

Dear, there's nothing to admit.

Just a couple pictures and this, a receipt.

Chris, they're not pilgrims.