Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I'll return it tomorrow, promise.

- Debs, go pick up Liam from Sheila's. - No, wait. Debs, hold on.

How the hell we gonna fit all of that in there?

A night in a fancy hotel? You don't think I'd love to jump at that?

Um, but you know what?

...and that's more important than video games and masturbation, right?

- What's wrong with it? - Nothing if you don't mind squatting...

Come on. I got them, I got them, I got them.

- We need something to put in the coffin. - All right.

What do you want?

- Hey. - Ha, ha.

Just go. I'll put everything back.

- Hey, Carl, more ice. - Got it.

Where's the justice?

Which one do you like better, the baby or the whore?

- Not a chance. - What's the problem? You go out.

Which one, sweet baby? The whore. Okay.

Uh, Frank Gallagher. Loving husband, devoted father.

The part where you feel like the world will stop spinning if you take a night off.

Okay. Well, we'll have the best slumber party ever.

Smashed the first one when he was on crystal microdot.

- Ten blocks? - Maybe five. Straight shot.

Come on, sweet boy.

Jesus. Stiff's starting to get ripe.

- Tetrodotoxin. - Zombie drug. Need a week.

My goddamn wife took my charger.

Man, I should've known something was wrong when he left last night.

She threw out my collection of 19th-century erotica.

But let's be honest. She's my last chance at happiness...

- Goodbye. Bye-bye.

- Got nothing. You? - Empty.

- Good for him. - I need your help.

- It's horse tranquilizer. - Get in the coffin before you pass out.

- So tonight. What do you think? - Like I'm going to a hotel tonight.

- Where's the charcoal? - Above the veggies.

You're a sweet boy. You're a sweet boy.