Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

don't come crying to me.
Brock looks like hell.
Ah, Mr. Samson. Excellent. OK.
You hear muffled whimpers coming from the trunk of a limousine.
Well, I'm off on my date.
I'm thirsty.
And why are you dressed like the clown on my lamp, Pop?
Attention, unidentified aircraft.
Drink it.
Can't you see where this is maybe different?
That you don't like Zepp?
Did you spit in this?
That'll be Charlene. Gotta run, boys.
We don't even know who our old mommy was.
We don't do that! We do not eat test tubes.
Whoa! Look at those wheels!
You're mixing acids and bases there.
- Bud. - You got it, ape-drape.
Move over. I'm driving.