Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Wait! It's Muriel!

Look! There's a trail of blood!

Good. Locked up tight.

Ooh, look at this police nightstick.

Don't worry, kids.

A slower white athlete?

Yeah, heavy is the hand that holds the plunger.

You ain't gonna rat.

(MUSIC PLAYS ON TV)

I fried his behind with my hot comb.

I was better than other people.

I thought I told you to throw those magazines out.

Well, actually, it was me who...

One, two, three!

I sprayed sauce on him.

Hot sauce? Hot comb?

you all know what's behind every strong black man.

Thurgood, let me handle this.

Hey, Super, tell us again about when you were a king in Africa.

Jesus, forgive me for what I'm about to do!

Yeah, of course! No punks allowed! That's a given.

Maybe we can call for help through the vent.

Why don't we just call the police?

I didn't know Thurgood had company.

You were gonna get the butt end.

JUICY: (THROUGH VENT) Super, is that you?

Trying to horn in on the glory!

Yeah, everybody'll move away.

Hey, Muriel. Look at this,

And now to close, I will ceremoniously cut the cheese.

Well, let me tell you something,

And you told me my drinking would be the death of me.

Uh-uh! I ain't gonna be DOA in my DKNY!

Well, I was sleeping in the nude like usual, when the burglar came in.

Hero sandwich. Hiroshima.

If it hadn't been for your big ego,