Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

You're a sweet boy. You're a sweet boy.

Jesus. Stiff's starting to get ripe.

But let's be honest. She's my last chance at happiness...

Smashed the first one when he was on crystal microdot.

- Got nothing. You? - Empty.

The part where you feel like the world will stop spinning if you take a night off.

- Tetrodotoxin. - Zombie drug. Need a week.

Which one, sweet baby? The whore. Okay.

She threw out my collection of 19th-century erotica.

- Ten blocks? - Maybe five. Straight shot.

Okay. Well, we'll have the best slumber party ever.

Come on, sweet boy.

- Hey. - Ha, ha.

- Not a chance. - What's the problem? You go out.

- Good for him. - I need your help.

Man, I should've known something was wrong when he left last night.

My goddamn wife took my charger.

- We need something to put in the coffin. - All right.

- Where's the charcoal? - Above the veggies.

What do you want?

- What's wrong with it? - Nothing if you don't mind squatting...

- So tonight. What do you think? - Like I'm going to a hotel tonight.

How the hell we gonna fit all of that in there?

- Goodbye. Bye-bye.

Come on. I got them, I got them, I got them.

Which one do you like better, the baby or the whore?

- Debs, go pick up Liam from Sheila's. - No, wait. Debs, hold on.

A night in a fancy hotel? You don't think I'd love to jump at that?

- Hey, Carl, more ice. - Got it.

Um, but you know what?

I'll return it tomorrow, promise.

Just go. I'll put everything back.

Where's the justice?

Uh, Frank Gallagher. Loving husband, devoted father.

...and that's more important than video games and masturbation, right?

- It's horse tranquilizer. - Get in the coffin before you pass out.