Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Eat that sour cider all hollered, don't it?

Don't you worry, honey.

Uncle Chad is now what the government officially designates as a small businessman.

You take my word, Mr. Drysdale, I appreciate everything you do for me.

I want you to take them tickets and put one on every car.

They look like welfare cases.

If this is a dress store, I'll eat a yard of calico.

Maurice and I'll deal with these trespassers.

Swimming pools, movie stars.

Well, sir, something filling, I suppose.

What a pleasant surprise.

It's an investment for you, Mr. Clabbett, a tax shelter.

Then we'll pitch in and help wherever we can.

There's another parking ticket on our truck.

Come on, we gotta save the rest of them.

That's it, honey.

Here's a $5 one.

What am I supposed to do down to the dress store, Pa?

Well now, Granny, it takes money to lay in a stock, and she just told us she didn't have none.

Miss Jean, I reckon it was Jethro coming in sudden like that to have done it, but you just crimped that piece of paper all out of shape with them fancy pliers.

Now granted, this being a fancy Beverly Hills dress store, they probably got ready-made yard goods.

Oh, I forgot to tell you, Uncle Jed.

Uh, Youngins, you wait out front.

We gotta let the toad in.