Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

You don't got a willy, you don't get the silly.
Good luck. Wish me luck on bottling my own preserves.
Wow, that bums me out.
ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST. HA HA HA HA HA HA
Our boy Stan, right here.
Inside are the most pathetic people in the city, with nothing to live for.
- Yep. - Did you wash the blood off your hands?
I was your one, and you didn't even know it.
...we were all talking about trying out for the gymnastics team.
You seem awfully knowledgeable about all this. Have you ever...?
His sport jacket, as you can see, is made of newspapers.
Who? Come on. We want details.
- It's all over, Randy. Time to die. - Okay, yeah. I get it.
Aren't you...? Aren't you gonna apologize and beg for your life?
You can do whatever you want. You're killing these people.
- Maybe Steve is your one. - I can't kill my own son.
From work. We know each other from work.
I'm a jerk. You know what it's like to be made a jerk of?
Give it up, Roger. There is no "one." That person doesn't exist.
- Bad Larry. - Hey, hey, no tears, you.
Turned out he was working for the East Germans.
Look at what you've become.
...and pretend it's one of the Little Rascals?
Don't you wanna know how that's possible?