Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Ha. I swear to God...
Because apparently it's going around. Because-- Shut up.
In the words of the immortal Jeremy Bentham--
...continue to make such wildly liberal use of the bar.
Do you smell toast? Pam?
...and how the hell are you gonna do that if Cecil gets it?
Then how are we supposed to beat anybody to a hydrogen bomb...
That's not even how you make a Hairy Navel.
. “in the next-- Tick, took, tick. --12 hours.
Oh, you're-- You're serious.
Mm. Choke sex, that's her kink.
Last one.
But we're not speaking, so if you want a deep submergence whatever...
Same question. Same answer.
Yeah, if you're done yelling at me for no reason.
I know. It's hard to hear, but-- Ow!
Ahem. Hello, I'm Cecil Tunt. I believe you're in need of some assistance?
Because the B-52 was-- In the middle of the Bermuda Triangle.
I have the most fantastic news.
With a KGB cyborg.
And that's how you ask? Cecil's, like, interviewing everybody.
We're-- Look, semantics, whatever.
Which also doesn't suck, obviously.
Dicknuts.
Anyhoo, the lead scientist is threatening--
The only American DSV is here in the Pacific.
It's a reward. And maritime salvage law is very clear on the subject...
No, not ransom it, Cyril.
Sterling' With a crazy straw-