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: "BADDA BOOM!"
BOB: "BADDA BOP!"
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
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?"
BOB: BADDA ZANG!"