This is Ray Vecchio and I am OUTRAGED!
I AM NOT FAT!!
My waist is 32". THAT is not FAT! Ask anybody, anybody! I don't even eat your stupid chocolate, Wonka! TAKE THAT, you fiendish toad. With bad hair! And oh, sweet Mary, the WORST glasses I have EVER seen in my ENTIRE life! And I'm gonna carry on eating cheeseburgers and polenta and waffles and calamari BECAUSE I LIKE IT!
So- you can just- just- go and be PURPLE somewhere else! Another Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight will never again pass these lips. I'm on strike. That is all.
(Asher, point me towards Hershey.)
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Why not step away from the computer and, oh, go for a jog?
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I run enough on the job, thanks. Mostly getting guys that people like you lose 'cause they can't do their own jobs properly.
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Ray, if you knew the first thing about the way I do my job, you'd know this: I don't make a habit of losing anything.
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Oh, I've heard things about the way you do your job, Alan. It's the only thing about you that impresses me.
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I can only imagine how breathtaking competence must be when viewed from a distance.
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It's not your so-called competence that impresses. It's the things you do...behind the scenes that I'm more interested in.
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If this interest you speak of is professional, I'm sure I needn't remind you that Boston--as well as the happenings behind its curtains and beneath its various trapdoors--is well outside your jurisdiction.
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Neither is Canada but that hasn't stopped me.
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As it happens, I have been to Canada.
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And flown out to the mountains to break the kneecaps of luckless cabin dwellers.
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To hook hapless fish by the lip, but close.
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