Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Barney, you're a pal.
And we'll have to get an autograph book.
Neither would I.
while our poor husbands are back home slaving away.
Come on, you two.
This part calls for a real woman. A real wife.
Honest, Fred, I can't go. I'm writing a letter to Betty.
I must live right...
no matter what my psychiatrist says.
One year, I was in the spring play at Public School 158.
- Fred wouldn't cheat his best friends. - Yeah, all right. I'm sorry, Betty.
No, nobody would do this to me.
Yeah. Surrounded by all those starlets.
- Come on, Barney, let's go. - What?
So Wilma and I decided the only fair thing to do is toss for it.
My feet are killing me.
Do you think I'm made of money or something?
Betty Rubble! Are you out of your mind?
Hey, who wants to eat meatballs? I'm trying to eat from meatball ever!
We wouldn't trust you out there for one minute.
Look, Betty. There's Fred and the producer.
For what I've been thinking of you the last few days.
I got it. It just might work.
Keep tossing, Barney.
That sounds fair.
If either one of them win, we split the prize between us, right?