Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Chris Griffin... will you be my son?
Oh, I'd have to make up stories of a severe mental illness.
Hey, hey, Chris, how about you and me do a secret handshake
Well, all right, then.
Welcome, friends, loved ones,
Hello, Tree. Thank you for shade.
I know he's marrying me for my money, but I don't care.
Okay, my bad. But I've been counting on that money, Lois.
Oh my God! Here smells like shit
who are married and don't have sex.
Meg i uke 44
School, yuck, right?!
* That's how you know it's a medicated cough drop *
to the vastly-underdressed cousin
I-I better go check on him.
fall-down uncle?
No! No one wants to hear your stupid songs about nothing!
Mumbling while I sleep to indicate dream content.
Smells like farts in here.
Chris, to express my love,
Hello, family.
He's upstairs in his room.
Say, yours.
Who's the guy?
but we would like them to be prominently featured
Then, yes, I will marry you, Dad!
Why doesn't Dad ever want to spend time with me?
They're a bunch of liberal degenerates.
like maybe having one ATM card and one bank account.
Like Will Smith and that pit bull.
And besides, there's plenty of people
Hey, Chris. Are you okay?
MAN We now return to At the Movies
reverse spin, bump, explode, shake, belly rub,
But, Grandpa, I don't even want the money.
in a state with enough trees around
Aw, damn it!
For you kids watching,
Hey, hey, there he is!
He can't play no tuba!
Um... well, you know...
one spin, slap high, slap low,
Hello, Mountain Cat.