BOB: "Say, Chuck... I'm getting married again this September and I want you to be a pallbearer at the wedding! .........BADDA BING!"

CHUCK: "I'd love to help you out, Bob, but I would have to find a pet-sitter... for my wife, that is ......BADDA BANG!"

BOB: "You know, my ex-wife called the other day begging for child support. So I broke my son's leg and sent her a crutch!"



CHUCK: "It's always fun riffing with you, Bob-o. We oughta take this show on the road again -- tour the comedy circuits, see the country and so forth."

BOB: "Yeah I'd love to, but I have a 500-foot restraining order against my ex-wives, and in most cases I could only dig six feet deep! ....BLAMMO!"

CHUCK: "Hee hee."

BOB: "Of course if we do tour the country, we'll have to bring a good chef. I'm not saying my fiancée is a bad cook, but every meal she prepares causes my colon to prolapse and protrude three inches from my rectum! ...BUFFO!"

CHUCK: "Ha, yeah. So anyway, what else is new with you?"

BOB: "Well I just saw my astrologist."

CHUCK: "Is that so?"

BOB: "Yeah. He said the reason things didn't work with my ex-wife is because I'm a Gemini and she's a fucking cunt!  ...ZINGO!"

CHUCK: "Yeah, zingo... Listen I gotta go."

BOB: "No problem, Chuck. But hey... if you happen to run into my ex-wife, make sure you back up and do it again! Until she's dead, Chuck! Completely dead! Make sure you kill her! ...Because we don't get along, her and I! "

CHUCK: "Badda bing?"


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