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Howard: Oh, that's really great! Botulism on the hoof! |
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Dick: Don't even look at it, Howard, you're over the deadline |
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Jeff: The new fascist ensemble says that you can't have anything to eat, man, 'cause you're over the deadline |
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Howard: What's that mean? |
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Dick: I told you to be down here at noon, man, you're five minutes late, so you can't order, listen, listen . . . |
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Howard: You . . . told [...], man |
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Dick: These guys ordered like ten minutes ago |
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Howard: It's like having Ronald Reagan for a road manager . . . what can you make me in two minutes? |
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Dick: The deal is that, uh . . . |
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Howard: . . . besides sick! |
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Dick: If you help me, uh, . . . for the airport, man, you be able to woof down some kind of scarf out there |
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Howard: What do you mean, "Woof down some kind of scarf out there"? |
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Dick: Then you can stick your fingers in your nose |
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Howard: I'm hungry, man |
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Dick: Eat a payday candy bar |
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Howard: Listen, how about a little dry cereal? How 'bout an orange juice |
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Dick: Never happened, man |
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Jeff: Hey, get it on tape, that Barber is a doofus, man |
