Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I don't want a man in my icebox.
Mr. Guy, I don't know quite how to say this.
We can do something for them. Have a nice day.
...walked in here and just died.
Well, I know, I know, but we have to, right?
We need some lubrication.
He came back to me in a dream. He said that life after death was okay.
Guy's meeting with him in an hour, he's got photographs of the plans.
You call Ma Bell, call off the phone block on the 976.
-Oh, watch it, will you? -Come on.
...dying alone in that office.
-Nice grave we've been digging for you. -Nice and special.
This much money completely alters your sense of reality.
I don't belong here, buried in a cemetery.
Oh, David.
I sent him half a lottery ticket as identification.
Well, it's not as much fun, but it beats working.
-Then they're gonna wanna do this. -I've read Tom Sawyer.
You wanna do this or you want me to do it?
That's what they are, to make you feel better.
-That's it? -I checked. I thought he was sleeping.
Oh, you didn't take that out of his pocket?
-Twins. -Yeah.
I've had it, that's it.
There we go. Very nice.
You might wanna take a gander at them...
It pits friend against friend.
-Watch it. -What?
David, can't you close his eyes?
The deadline for collecting our winnings is Thursday noon.
-It wobbled. -Yeah, right. I understand.
Come in.
-No. -It's okay. I'm right here.
Last we saw him was when he relieved us of Mr. Soffer at the cemetery.
Doctor, medication.
Why did you need Harry? You photographed the plans.
...you can kiss your fishnet-fantasy friends goodbye.
No. No.