Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Good morrow to you.

I guess I ought to accept your humble, simple ways.

Chris, they're not pilgrims.

Larry, I have no choice.

I'm your long lost son, Emmett.

They probably haven't seen a movie since Spartacus.

And whatever you do, do not tell Fred and Gladys.

Gee, so you got ten grand for me and, uh, you still live like this?

The people you sold me to were very good to me, and I've returned home as your sugar daddy.

You called me Emmett.

Chris, they're Amish.

No, of course not.

I'll fit in fine.

For better or worse, we're mirror images.

Just a couple pictures and this, a receipt.

Like the $10,000 you paid for me on the black market.

Dear, there's nothing to admit.

Well, yeah, Larry.

Oh, my, you don't have to put up a front for me any longer.

So, what do you say we all come inside, shoot the bull, and throw back some brews?

Sir, if we fed you, would you leave us?

I found out that I'm adopted.

Hey, listen, do you mind if I keep this outfit?

I wouldn't hold my breath.

It's an Indian headquarter.

What, do you guys have a gambling problem or something?

Hey, you know, since this is kind of, well, kind of a backwards sort of family reunion of sorts, um, what do you say we get one of those where are they now pictures, huh?

You know, there's a bond that happens between a mother and a child, and that bond can never be broken.

Which is exactly what guilty people do when they sweep adopted dirt underneath the rug.

I'm wracked with guilt.

Not to tell us what?

We even took a picture of you with them.