Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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