The Last Gingerbread House on the Left/Transcript

==Transcript==
Bob: Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Linda: Uh-oh. You looking at the kids' Christmas lists again?
Bob: Binders, Lin. They put them in binders this year. I-I think we need to explain to them what "poor" means.
Linda: You're putting too much pressure on yourself. On both of us.
Bob: We're so poor, Lin! And it's Christmas! Again! It keeps coming! It never stops! 
Linda: Okay okay. ­Calm down.
Bob: It's just, sometimes this holiday makes me feel like I'm a failure.
Linda: Hey, hey, hey. You kiss Santa with that mouth? Come on. Look, we'll do all we can, and it'll be fine. Besides, you know what the greatest gift of all is? Family.
Bob: You say that to the kids with a straight face.
Linda: Yeah, I know. I was just trying it out. What about "Christmas is for closers?"
Bob: Um, needs a little work.
Linda: Well, we'll figure it out. And the kids will be okay. They know it's not all about Christmas presents. They know.
Louise: Christmas presents countdown, now at: six days, ten hours, 35 minutes.
Oh, my God. 
Gene: I'm not gonna make it! 
Tina: Gene, be strong. Be my big strong boy. 
Linda: You guys, look what I found on sale at the store? These light-up Christmas necklaces! They were only a buck 99 for five. Can you believe that unbelievable bargain? 
Tina: I mean, I want to. 
Linda: Well, I think it's a sign that this is the year. The year of Belcher family Christmas caroling!
Teddy: Ooh!
Bob: ­Oh, no.
Louise: Ugh, caroling? Mom, we've had this talk. We're just not those kind of people. I mean, those people get their clothes dry-cleaned, they floss...
Gene: You know, honkies.
Teddy: Well, count this honky In.
Linda: That's the spirit! Come on, guys! We'll go out to the suburbs, to a nice street with pretty lights, where people will give us hot cocoa, and cider with real cinnamon in it. 
Louise: Wait. Hot cocoa? La Vida Mocha? 
Gene: I call it naughty mud. 
Tina: I just call it hot cocoa. I didn't know we had cool names for it. 
Linda: And people will want to join us, and our group will get bigger and bigger until it's hands across America, singing carols and saving mankind. 
Gene: Oh! Amity the albino polar bear cub! He's on the news again! 
Tina: Turn it up, damn it! 
Olsen Benner: Amity, the albino polar bear cub born at the Bog Harbor Zoo only a few days ago, is being called a Christmas bear-icle.
Kids: Aww. 
Gene: Amity makes non-albino polar bear cubs look like a sick joke!
Louise: Ugh! He's so cute it disgusts me!
Linda: Oh! "Christmas bear-icle"! I just got it.
Linda: Come on, Bob, time to go caroling.
Tina: Teddy, lookin' good.
Teddy: Yup. It's a shame I can only wear this sweater four months out of the year.
Bob: Bob's Burgers.
Mr. Fischoeder: Bob. It's your favorite landlord, Calvin Fischoeder.
Bob: Oh hi, Mr. Fischoeder.
Mr. Fischoeder: Bob, I need you to deliver some food to my house. I'm having a little party, nothing weird, so just bring whatever.
Bob: Mr. Fischoeder, actually, I'm about to go caroling with my family, so...
Mr. Fischoeder: What? Why? Never mind. Bob, I don't want to play the landlord card here, but actually, I do.
Bob: Oh, okay. How much food do you need?
Mr. Fischoeder: Oh, I don't know. Just just bring five or six foods. Over and out.
Bob: So, Mr. Fischoeder wants me to bring food over to his house. He's having a party. Nothing weird, he said, which is troubling.
Louise: Ugh! It's definitely a human sacrifice party.
Tina: Or a sensual grown-up party.
Gene: Dad, you need a Venetian mask and a thong, stat!
Bob: Stop it.
Linda: ­Aw, Bob. What about caroling?
Bob: Well, we'll just drop off some burgers, and then we'll go afterwards.
Louise: You're getting sacrificed.
Teddy: ­Oh! Bob would be great at getting sacrificed. He's got the body for it.
Gene: Mm-hmm.
Bob: Okay, I'll be right back.
Louise: And they never saw him again.
Felix: What's the password?
Bob: Uh, it's Bob. I'm just here to drop off some food.
Felix: That's not it.
Bob: Felix, let me in.
Felix: Okay, fine, but if anyone asks, you totally knew the password was "pee-pee, poo-poo, one, two, three, four." They're all down in the dungeon. It's what we call the basement.
Bob: Oh, boy. Oh, God. Please don't be something horrible. Oh, they're gonna cover me with candy and eat me.
Mr. Fischoeder: Bob! Welcome to the Gingerbread Gentlemen's Annual Gingerbread House Competition. Everyone, meet this year's guest competitor, Bob.
Bob: I don't understand. I'm just here to drop off the food.
Mr. Fischoeder: Oh, Bob. You're always doing that confused food delivery man business. And I get why it's hysterical. Now, come with me, and let's, uh, get you into your tuxedo. Come, come, come.
Bob: Mr. Fischoeder, what is going on? Hey.
Mr. Fischoeder: ­Listen. How are you at building gingerbread houses?
Bob: Well, actually, not bad. My mom and I used to build them together before she died. It was kind of our thing...
Mr. Fischoeder: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, okay, okay. Forget about all that, because I want you to enter this contest, and lose.
Bob: What? Why?
Mr. Fischoeder: Because every year, every damn year, I lose. You wouldn't think it by the looks of them, but those men out there those, there are, so... Well, they are some creative bastards.
Bob: O-Okay. I should really get going.
Mr. Fischoeder: Bup, bup, bup, bup, bup, bup... 
Bob: But, oh, hey, uh, okay. 
Linda: Where is he? All right, while we're waiting, let's warm up. Now repeat after me: Ang-ang-ang-ang-ang.
All: Ang-ang-ang-ang-ang-ang-ang.
Bob: Mr. Fischoeder, I... can't Felix lose for you?
Mr. Fischoeder: What? No! He wishes. Only the eldest son in each founding family is allowed to compete.
Bob: Well, then, why would I be allowed to compete?
Mr. Fischoeder: Because I'm the host this year, and the host is allowed to pick one guest competitor. I mean, uh, generally they're they're a lot richer and cleaner than you, but I-I only had this idea a couple of hours ago, so, well, here we are. As far as those guys are concerned, you're my wealthy, woolly buddy.
Bob: Uh, listen, sorry, but I'm supposed to go caroling with my family.
Mr. Fischoeder: You keep saying that. It's so strange. Hey, what if you don't have to pay the rent next month? 
Bob: Huh.
Mr. Fischoeder: Mm-hmm.
Bob: We could use the money to get better Christmas presents for the kids.
Mr. Fischoeder: That's not what I'd do, but sure.
Bob: Okay. Okay, I-I'll do it.
Mr. Fischoeder: Fantastic! And and you're okay with being killed when you lose?
Bob: What? 
Mr. Fischoeder: ­Oh, I'm just kidding.
Bob: Ha. Ha. ­Ha.
Mr. Fischoeder: Or am I? I am.
Linda: Mr. Fischoeder wants you to lose a gingerbread house contest? But we need your beautiful soprano voice. We need it to do the song "You Can't Spell Christmas Without Us." It's a classic.
Bob: I mean, I'm not a soprano, but if I do this, we won't have to pay rent next month. (quietly) And we can use that money to buy you-know-whats for the you-know-whos.
Linda: (quietly) Who are the you-know-whos?
Teddy: (whispers) Yeah, who are they?
Louise: Hey, Whispering Willies, I'm going with Dad. I want to see this gingerbread competition madness.
Gene: Me, too.
Tina: ­Yeah, Dad, we could cheer you on. Like "Dad, Dad, he's our man. If he can't do it, that's good."
Bob: No, kids. Y-You go with your mom. Caroling will be fun, too.
Louise: Okay, well, sold me.
Gene: I bought it.
Teddy: Kids, I want you to know I'm not trying to replace your father while we're caroling. But if you so choose, you may call me Caroling Dad.
Bob: Thanks, Teddy.
Linda: ­All right. Well, we'll go caroling around this neighborhood and then we'll meet you back here, Bob.
Bob: ­Okay.
Louise: Good luck losing, Dad! You're in your element.
Bob: Do I, uh, look all right?
Mr. Fischoeder: Yeah. I mean, there's nothing we can do about your face. And your hair.
Bob: ­Hmm. So, how-how do you want me to lose? 
Mr. Fischoeder: ­Simple. If your house falls down, it's disqualified. So, just build it really tall and extremely unstable, like-like, some of my properties.
Bob: What?
Mr. Fischoeder: Well, (clears throat) Not your place. (chuckles) Yeah, you're fine. Anyway, right before the end, down goes your house, the judge declares a winner and a loser, which won't be me, and bing. It's over.
Bob: The judge? What-what judge?
Mr. Fischoeder: Godfrey the same guy who's been judging this thing since the beginning.
Bob: Wow. He is old. Is he alive?
Mr. Fischoeder: That's a good question. Let's find out. (yelling) Godfrey! ­There he is. Now, let's introduce everyone. This is August Scharffenheimer. We all call him Auggie.
August: I do not like it.
Mr. Fischoeder: And this is downtown Randolph Brackenbrown.
Bob: Wow, You are really arching your eyebrow.
Randolph: Yes, I'm in fierce competition mode. Also, it's a medical thing. I can't always lower it (straining) when I want to.
Mr. Fischoeder: And finally, Samuel Summerbottom.
Samuel: I like my houses like I like my women sturdy and ginger.
Bob: Okay.
Felix: And Bob, as you know, I'm Felix, and I'm not jealous of you at all. Isn't that nice?
Mr. Fischoeder: So, Bob, just put your guns on the gun table, and we can begin.
Bob: Oh, I, I didn't bring any guns.
Mr. Fischoeder: No guns. Okay. Interesting. Well, let's get started.
Randolph: Haven't you forgotten something?
Samuel: We can't really start until last year's loser puts on the loser hat.
Randolph: Calvin has to wear it every year.
August: It's an old bed pan. It's very shameful.
Bob: Yikes. 
Linda: Wow. Mr. Fischoeder's neighborhood really is beautiful.
Tina: Yeah.
Louise: Whoa, except for that poor thing.
Linda: Oh yeah, what's going on with that? Ugh.
Teddy: Oh, man, I know that place. I've heard crazy stories about the guy that lives there. Stories not suitable for children.
Louise: Like what, Teddy?
Teddy: Okay, I'll tell you. See all those bedsheets up in the windows? He puts those up there to hide his evil deeds. 
Gene: Bathroom stuff? 
Teddy: ­Murder!
Gene: Huh.
Teddy: ­His parents used to live there with him. But where are they now?
Tina: ­Florida?
Teddy: Murdered! A delivery man went in there once, never came out. What happened to him?
Louise: They got married?
Teddy: Murdered!
Tina: Aah
Teddy: They say he buried them all in the backyard, and then he just went right on murdering. Murder, murder, murder, murder, murder hello, sir murder!
Louise: All right, Teddy, you convinced me, let's go there.
Teddy: No! What? The murder! The murder part.
Linda: Teddy, stop with your stories. You're ruining the vibe. Come on, let's go carol the crap out of this place!
Gene: Yeah! I came here for hot chocolate, not not chocolate.
Mr. Fischoeder: I got to say, gentlemen, I'm feeling good about this year.
August: Tell that to your potty head.
Randolph: Ha! Classic ginger boom.
Mr. Fischoeder: Ha, ha, ha. Felix! I need more frosting.
Felix: Coming! Here we go.
Samuel: Frosting, Calvin? More like losting.
Randolph: Ha! Another incredible ginger boom.
Mr. Fischoeder: Uh, look at Bob that's bad, right? His whole deal?
Bob: Ugh! Uh. Okay. So, what's, uh, everybody's Christmas plans?
August: I was going to buy an island and flip it. Literally.
Randolph: I'm going to have my cash washed and waxed. It really needs it.
Samuel: I'm going to treat myself to a new penis.
Bob: Okay. So no one's spending it with family?
Randolph: No way.
Samuel: Ha.
Mr. Fischoeder: ­Nope.
Samuel: ­No.
Bob: Wait, what about your brother, Felix?
Mr. Fischoeder: Oh, right. Him.
Felix: Oh, uh, look! I have this, uh, extra plate under my arm. Maybe I could just, uh, join you guys...
Mr. Fischoeder: Felix, no!
Felix: All right, here I go.
Randolph: Oh, I can't wait for that prize to be mine.
Bob: There's a prize?
Samuel: You didn't know? We chipped in and made an obscenely large donation to the Bog Harbor Zoo to procure a private Christmas Day cuddle session with Amity the albino polar bear cub.
Randolph: He's the "it" bear right now.
August: He's so fuzzy.
Bob: Wow. My kids would love that. 
Mr. Fischoeder: Why? 
Bob: ­Uh, because kids love baby animals?
Mr. Fischoeder: I don't think that's right.
Bob: Uh, they, they do. Why do you guys want to cuddle a polar bear?
August: An albino polar bear cub cuddle is a very prestigious cuddle, Bob.
Randolph: I've cuddled a rhino baby, a tiger baby, and now I may cuddle an albino polar bear baby.
Samuel: That's such a good order to do it in.
Randolph: Thank you.
Mr. Fischoeder: Pay no attention to Bob, everybody. He's not smart ginger boom. He's also pear-shaped ginger boom. If a pear could be dumb and bad at things. Ha, ha. You know what I mean? A dumb pear.
Randolph: Pears are the worst.
Linda: (singing "Deck the Halls") Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Man: Okay. Thank you.
Gene: And we will take our hot cocoa now. So, thank you.
Man: Sorry, I don't have any.
Both: What?!
Linda: Cider?
Man: No.
Tina: Cinnamon?
Man: Afraid not.
Gene: What about hot cocoa?
Man: Again, no.
Gene: Damn it!
Louise: Then we don't have any caroling for you, pal.
Man: Well, I mean, you already did it.
Louise: Oh, did we? Yeah, we did.
All (out of sync): Fa la la la la la la la la...
Woman: Okay, good night, then.
Linda: No, no, no, no. Now you join in.
Woman: Oh, uh...
Linda: Hark, the angel Harold sings... Grab your coats. Come on out.
Woman: Whoops, the door is closing.
Linda: About all the Christmas things...
Woman: Okay, bye-bye, then.
Linda: Everybody. Peace on earth and salsa mild La la la la...
Man: Uh, great.
Linda: Wait. Come with us. Join our Christmas Crusade!
Man: I just want to shut this on you.
Linda: Unh. Aw, sugar plumbs! 
Randolph: Um, where are all the candy wafers? Auggie, you're hogging them aren't you? You're a hoggie Auggie.
August: Look who's talking, Mr. Too Many Jelly Fruit Slices.
Mr. Fischoeder: Samuel, what are you building with those mini marshmallows?
Samuel: Oh, just a mini snowman.
Mr. Fischoeder: Damn, that's brilliant.
Samuel: So you're just sticking peppermints everywhere, then?
Mr. Fischoeder: Uh, yeah. It's uh, some ornamental filigree.
Samuel: Bob, I got to say your gingerbread scoring is exquisite.
Bob: Oh, uh, thank you. You just got to be firm but gentle.
Randolph: Show us.
Bob: Um, okay.
Mr. Fischoeder: I don't think that's necessary.
Randolph: Potty head, shush.
Mr. Fischoeder: Mmm...
August: Ah, so firm but so gentle. 
Mr. Fischoeder: Uh-huh. And does your big fat belly get in the way, Bob?
Bob: Uh, no, it-it doesn't.
Mr. Fischoeder: And what about your body odor, Bob? Do you find that distracting? I mean, it's like your armpits threw up.
Samuel: Whoa!
Randolph: Oh, my.
Bob: Uh, okay, easy.
Mr. Fischoeder: You smell like a stevedore's shorts. You smell like failure. Like stinky failure farts.
Bob: Okay, that's it. Calvin, can I have a word with you in the other room?
Mr. Fischoeder: Sure.
Bob: Look, I'm doing you a favor, Mr. Fischoeder. You can't treat me like this.
Mr. Fischoeder: What's the matter, Bob, can't handle my garbage mouth?
Bob: You mean trash talk?
Mr. Fischoeder: Trash talk, garbage mouth, ginger booms It's all the same thing. And it's part of the gingerbread game, Bob, so get used to it.
Bob: Well, get used to this! I'm gonna take you down. I'm gonna try to win this thing. My kids would love that polar bear cuddle. That would be an amazing Christmas present!
Mr. Fischoeder: What? No, no. We have a deal.
Bob: The deal's off, Mr. Fischoeder. Oh, and do you know who's going to lose this contest? You are, potty head! How's that for garbage mouth?
Mr. Fischoeder: Pretty good, actually. Wait, Bob, come back.
Bob: Auggie, pass me the gumdrops.
Auggie: Okay. You don't have to shout.
Randolph: Uh-oh, looks like someone's re-jigger-breading.
Samuel: And with so little time left. Pretty ballsy, Bob.
Bob: Well, I had this sudden inspiration, and I'm gonna go for it, since I'm in it to win it.
August: Ah, that is such a cool expression.
Mr. Fischoeder: Think about what you're doing, Bob.
Bob: Oh, I have thought about it.
Mr. Fischoeder: Well, have you thought about this?
Bob: Ow! Stop pinching my thigh.
Mr. Fischoeder: Stop putting your thigh between my fingers.
August: ­Oh, the thrills of gingerbread house competition.
Linda: What's wrong with these people? A bunch of Christmas crumb bums. Aw, maybe we should just pack it in. Go home and drink the kind of hot cocoa that's wine. 
Louise: Wait, if we're not gonna get any cocoa, the only thing that's gonna make this worthwhile is going to that creepy, dark house. 
Teddy: No, no, no, no, no. No, no, no, no, no. I-I got stuff to live for. I have a pair of pants on layaway at the mall. 
Louise: Doesn't anyone want to check out this crazy killer? I mean, bring Christmas spirit to this poor guy. 
Linda: You're right. Okay, let's do it. But if we get murdered, don't tell your father.
Teddy: Fine, go. I'll be right behind you. Protecting you, in the back, where it's safe.
Linda: Okay, I'll just ring the bell. Huh. Guess he's not home.
Oscar: ­Hello.
Bob: Okay, Bob, you got this. Ow! A chance to give your kids the best Christmas ever. No pressure. Ow! Just ignore Mr. Fischoeder. Ow!
Mr. Fischoeder: Oh, is this not helpful?
Randolph: Hey, where did all the tiny candy canes go? Auggie!
August: What? I needed them for my tiny candy cane trees. 
Randolph: But how the hell will my "candy cripples" walk?
Samuel: Wait, there was one chocolate Santa left. I need him. I need chocolate Santa!
Randolph: Oh, I may have eaten him.
Samuel: You son of a bitch!
Godfrey: Aah! Time's up. Contest over.
Mr. Fischoeder: Oh, nuts!
Louise: Why did we hide instead of keep running?
Linda: I don't know. I panicked. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! This is how we die. I knew it. I knew it was gonna be like this I'm sorry.
Gene: Mom, you're great in a crisis.
Oscar: There you are. Wait. Please don't run away again. Sorry about the knife. I was chopping hazelnuts for a winter salad. You're carolers, right? I love carolers.
Tina: Love killing them, or...
Oscar: What?
Tina: Nothing.
Gene: Okay great talk, bye.
Linda: No. We are carolers, and we will sing for you, right? Right?
Oscar: Ah, great. Why don't you come a little closer so I can hear you better? 
Linda: Uh, sure.
Oscar: A little closer. Boy, you guys are some small-stepping carolers, huh?
Gene: Thanks.
Godfrey: Judging, judging...
Randolph: Auggie, if I don't win, it's on you.
August: Oh, is that right, Randolph, the Big-Nose Crybaby? 
Samuel: What about you, you Santa snacker? 
Randolph: He was delicious! 
Samuel: You are so lucky all my guns are on the gun table, and I'm not concealing any weapons. 
Randolph: So are you, mister. 
Godfrey: Here we go. 
Bob: Aah, what's happening?
Randolph: We're pointing guns at each other's gingerbread houses, obviously. Come on, Bob, keep up.
Bob: Where were you even hiding that?
August: Let's just say I have a high butt crack.
Mr. Fischoeder: Well, if everybody's doing it, whoop! Felix, don't you grab a gun. We're having a moment here.
Felix: You think you're so great, Calvin, just because you came out of Mommy's hootenanny before me!
Bob: Everybody just calm down. I mean, come on, it's just a stupid gingerbread house contest.
Others: What?!
Bob: Aah! Don't point at me. Back at the houses. Back at the houses!
Singing: In a one-horse open sleigh 
Linda: Okay, good night.
All: Bye.
Oscar: Wait, do you know this one? 
Linda: What? 
Man: Adeste Fideles Laeti triumphantes Venite, venite In Bethlehem
August: Maybe Bob's right. This is silly. We should put our guns away.
Randolph: Yeah.
Samuel: ­Yeah. ­
Mr. Fischoeder: Or, counterpoint.
Man (singing) Natum videte Regem angelorum Venite adoremus Venite adoremus Venite Adoremu-uuus Dominum.
Linda: Nice pipes.
Oscar: Uh, thanks. I'm Oscar. Care for some hot cocoa?
Tina: Uh-huh.
Louise: ­Yes, please.
Linda: ­Sure.
Samuel: Well, it finally happened. We finally shot up each other's gingerbread houses.
Mr. Fischoeder: I'm honestly surprised it took until this year.
Bob: Well, I just got to say thanks so much for inviting me to your competition, where I was almost a casualty in a gingerbread massacre!
Samuel: Calm down.
August: Yeah, take a chill pill.
Bob: Y-You know why I'm even here? Because I'm Mr. Fischoeder's tenant, and he said I wouldn't have to pay rent next month if I lost on purpose.
Mr. Fischoeder: ­He's lying.
Randolph: Huh, that's actually a pretty good idea.
August: Yeah. Innovative thinking.
Mr. Fischoeder: Really? Well, then, he's right.
Samuel: Sick of always being the loser, huh, Calvin?
Mr. Fischoeder: Yes, I am. Every year I try, and every year, a potty head. It's a lot of pressure.
Bob: Look, I-I understand. This time of year can be hard. I'm under a lot of pressure myself trying to figure out how to give my kids a good Christmas.
Mr. Fischoeder: Oh, not that again. Please, Bob, I'm talking about real pressure.
Bob: Oh, my God.
Godfrey: And Bob's house is the least destroyed. So I guess, uh, Bob wins.
Bob: Oh, my God.
Oscar: So, yeah, in hindsight, maybe covering all the windows with bed sheets wasn't the best idea. I thought I was just being frugal and creative. I guess that kind of stuff does get the rumor mill grinding.
Teddy: The rumor mill. People love to talk, you know. But they don't always have the facts. Huh, Tina? Lookin' at you.
Tina: ­What?
Linda: Well, Oscar, anyone with a voice like yours can't be a murderer. And even if you are, you're still okay in my book.
Louise: So are you? I mean, you can tell us. We're cool.
Oscar: Uh, no, I'm not.
Louise: Damn.
Gene: You did kill those high notes.
Linda: Ooh, Oscar, go caroling with us. Oh, and we can finally do the song, "You Can't Spell Christmas Without Us." You can be our soprano.
Oscar: (gasps) I'd love to. 
Tina: Great, but no killing us, okay? Aah, he's got a chain saw! No, it's just his mug.
Bob: I can't believe I won.
Mr. Fischoeder: Oh, quit gloating. Hey, does that mean the rest of us lost?
Godfrey: Yep, you're all tied for last place.
Mr. Fischoeder: Well, there's some good news. We're all losers.
Randolph: This is all Bob's fault. He called the competition stupid, and I just went into a blind rage.
Samuel: Same here. What you said was really hurtful, Bob.
August: Yeah, they're called feelings, Bob, look it up.
Bob: You guys, I don't really think it's stupid. I actually think this whole thing is kind of sweet. You get together every year, you build gingerbread houses. You even donated to a zoo. It's nice. I mean, under that rich-loner exterior, you're all a bunch of softies who care about each other. You're like a weird little family. 
Godfrey: Even me? 
Bob: Uh, yeah, sure, even you, Godfrey. 
Godfrey: I'm the fun one. 
Bob: And I mean, it may sound cheesy, but you know what the greatest gift of all is? Family.
August: ­Oh, barf. Sounds cheesy.
Felix: Um, I'm Calvin's actual family. Just, uh, want to point that out. 
Mr. Fischoeder: Hey, maybe next year, we don't even have to pick a loser, hmm? 
Randolph: That's the best part. 
Samuel: No, we're still doing that. 
August: That stays. 
Mr. Fischoeder: Well, until next year, gentlemen. What is that awful racket? 
(muffled singing) Because we can't spell Christmas Without us.
Randolph: Should we shoot them? 
Gene: No wonder the ice caps are melting, this bear is hot. 
Louise: I changed my mind about having kids. I'm gonna have one, and feed it to this bear, 'cause I love him so much. 
Tina: He's so cute, but it'd be really hard to get stains off him. 
Linda: Ah, best Christmas ever, Bob.
August: Oh, I want to pet him. I want to pet him.
Samuel: Yeah, can we have our turn now?
Randolph: Thanks again for letting us come, Bob. Get ready for the cuddle bug.
Mr. Fischoeder: You know, Bob, that family of yours, they're, uh, they're lucky to have you.
Bob: Thanks, Mr. Fischoeder.
Mr. Fischoeder: Okay, now you say something nice about me.
Bob: You have pretty eye?
Mr. Fischoeder: Sounds like a line, Bob, but Merry Christmas.
Bob: Merry Christmas, Mr. Fischoeder.
Category:Transcripts