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Oily to Bed, Oily to Rise
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Curly
: Here I was dreaming of a nice portion of roast chicken and dumplings.
[
Moe slaps Curly
]
Curly
: What's that for?
Moe
: That's for not dreaming enough for the both of us.
The Widow Jenkins
: My three daughters, April, May, and June.
Curly
: Hmmm, three of the prettiest months of the year.
Moe
: [
smoking a cigar
] Quite a bouquet!
Curly
: Mmm! Smells like a chrysanthemum-mum-mum-mum-mum!
Curly
: Don't look now, but I think we're about to be killed.
Larry
: An inkwell!
Moe
: That's not ink! That's earl!
Curly
: What d'ya mean, earl?
Moe
: You know! Coal earl!
Curly
: You mean oil! It's a geezer! An oil geezer!
Mr. Johnson, Farmer
: Hey! What d'ya think ye're doin'?
Curly
: I'm sawin' a saw in half with a saw, see?
Curly
: Hey look, a rooster bar!
Moe
: You mean a crowbar.
Curly
: Don't a rooster crow?
Curly
: Hey! Don't look know, but I think we're about to be killed! Nyuk nyuk nyuk!
Larry
: Boy, isn't this a beautiful spot?
Curly
: You said it. It brings out the wood nymph in me.
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