Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I Want Number
Gentlemen, I now declare this meeting...
Your singing is different, Fred.
- Hear anything, Fred? - Not a sound.
I'm supposed to meet Wilma at her dressmaker's shop.
Not good at all.
- How do I look as a blonde, Wilma? - Real beat, man.
Very droll.
I'll bring it right back.
I don't know about that. I'll have to ask Betty.
We'll sneak out and hide in the bedroom.
The only thing you got up your sleeve is your arm.
Frédi, elég!
Hot Lips Hannigan! Oh, boy, I like him.
Alakazam! Alakazoo!
and these modern songs. They don't make sense.
Marchin'!
Do-re- mi-fa-so-la-ti-do
- Now get that junk out of here. - Okay, Wilma.
Say, that's all right.
Annie Doesn't Live Here Any More...
- They disappeared. - Gee, Fred, that's amazing.