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Waitress: Honey, here's them eggs you ordered. Honey, like bee, get it? That's called pointless foreshadowing.
Edward Basket: Huh? (On the road) Basket: Here's your doll back, little girl. You really shouldn't be so careless with your belongings.
Little girl: Yeah, whatever.
Crash! Boom! Whoosh! Crackle Basket: I think that something bad is about to happen.
(Later) Basket: Mmmm. Vicodin! What the ? (Tears open letter.) Wow! My ex-girl's handwriting has really improved. And look, her missing daughter looks kinda like the girl with the doll I accidentally was sort of responsible for getting killed, in a way. And she kind of has my hairline. I wonder, should I torture myself and go find her? Let's see what my friends at the precinct think.
Basket's fellow male cop: HAHAHA. Willow's a funny name.
Basket: I think that something bad is about to happen.
(On the island) Basket: What's in the sack? AHHH.
Tree-named crone: It's not her daughter, though.
(In the tavern) Basket: Can you swing that? Big-boned, tree-named tavern wench: Huh? Basket: (smashes a bee). Everything is OK.
Sensually pretty, formerly promising actress playing a lusty tavern scullery maid: That's good. Honey's not a plant, though.
(On the greensward) Willow: Oh, yeah, and I forgot, you are the father my child, Conan, er, I mean Rowen. (Yawns.) I could have stayed and had a life with you. But I didn't. I wanted to be princess of the beehive, instead. I mean, never mind. (Nods off, jerks awake, widens eyes to anime proportions). Mwah, kiss-kiss. Love ya! What were we talking about? Basket: Who burned it? Who burned it? Who burned it? Who burned it? Who burned it? Willow: Edward. Sniff. Blink. Why. Are. You. Yelling. At. Me? Is it because I jacked your Vicodin? Sniff. Snore. What were we talking about? Basket: I think something bad is about to happen.
Willow: My lips hurt.
(In the schoolroom) Rose: What is man? Unappealling twins, in unison: Phallic symbol, phallic symbol.
Rose: Echo? Echo? Basket: Step away from the bike.
Rose: And I'm the good twin.
Basket: I think something bad is about to happen.
(At the beehives) Basket: Hmmm. Hallo? Ow, ow, ow, oh bother. Silly old bear. Snore.
(At the Queen Bee's mansion) Sister Summersisle: You have so much potential. What are you doing here? Weren't you the stud Cher slapped in the face in Moonstruck? (Licks lips.) Basket: I was about to ask you the same thing. Where's the girl? Sister Summersisle: How you drone on. Let's talk about the significance of my superfluous "s." Basket: Look out for that semi-truck barreling toward us! Aaaaah! Oh. Never mind. Goddammit! (Pops another pill.) Mmmm. Thorazine.
(Back at the tavern) Big-boned, supercilious tavern wench: I've tried Weightwatchers, Jenny Craig, South Beech, and I still went up a bear-suit size since last year.
Tree-named crone: HAHAHA. All the better to roast that nosy cop in, my dear.
Big-boned wench: Totally.
Basket: That was the last straw that broke the Basket Case's back! Take that, wench! (Slugs her.) (Edward Basket is mysteriously attacked from behind) Voluptuous tavern wench: EEEE! Snap out of it! Leave the island already and take me with you! Do I have to tackle you or what? Snap out of it, I say! EEEE! Basket: Take that, wench! (Courageously kicks her in the face. Her eyes roll back in her head and become cartoon Xs.) Voluptuous wench: Snore (At the Nicolas Cage roast) Ellen Burstyn: And who can forget the part where Basket's cell phone rings in the middle of his bear suit scene and then the call gets dropped. It's like a wireless ad: Help me! Can you hear me now? Hahaha.
Kate Beahan: And remember when I produced the bullets I jacked from Basket's gun? He looked so surprised. You should be more careful with your belongings, Nick. Hahaha. And your movie choices.
All: The drone must die! Basket: (screaming) Oh, yeah, you bitches? Well, roasting me isn't gonna help your goddamn honey! Aaah. My legs! Honey, (honey, get it?) put down that torch and step away from the Basket Case. Honey! Smokey bear says don't play with matches. Hahaha. What the? Look out for that hurtling semi-truck! Ahh! Oh. Goddammit, these flashbacks from my drug experimentation phase in the seventies are getting old! Where's my heroin? Ouch. Ouch. My watch isn't fireproof. Ouch. I think something bad is about to happen. Can you hear me now? I'm ready for my close up. Goddammit! (Six months later) Voluptuous wench in modern-day slutty attire: I told that eponymous Basket Case to take me with him.
Innocent young drone: I like to help people.
Volptuous wench: Then get me out of my contract for the sequel! I think something bad is about to happen. EEEEE!


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