Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

(grunts)
Run, run, run, run, Frank! Run, Frank!
(sputtering)
Except why aren't we moving yet, Frank?
Am I in hell?!
We found something. You have a very serious disease,
We're outside the bakery on 6th Street. Where the hell are you?
Frank? Are you okay? Rug, rug, rug, rug.
Where? They're right there!
Frank? Frank!
I'm full of dog poison.
(phone chimes) Oh, shit, look.
You're playing games with me, Frank.
Go! Okay, I'm on it. I'm on it.
Lisa.
what's going on. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's a good idea.
Hey! What the hell are you guys doing?
Right, okay, and you have your walkie, right?
for each of you, then you're gonna be great.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. No, wait, we'll go...
Where the hell did I put that thing?
Frank, what? Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
- More for me. CHARLIE (over walkie): Yo, Frank!
Oh, shit. I'm at an impound.
This sandwich.
You're dying, you bastard.
(grunting)
There's a malignant tumor on your front lobe...
I know where I can get a rug real quick. What?
He is choking.
Whoa, look at those Winnebagos
Oh, what a day.
You're right! You're right, I'm wrong, okay?! (horn honks)
Need booze.
Oh, shit. Where am I?
We got the thing with the thing. Uh, the thing.
Look at the blueprint. Listen to the vain one.