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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Oh, my God, yes.
MALORY: ls Lana hit? Someone talk to me!
I figured that we'd kind of work backwards from the, uh, stealing of the helicopter.
Right in the same ear! MALORY: Ha! Good. Serves you right.
Why not? She's been coming to your rescue since you were in short pants.
Lana, I'm team captain. I built that team from nothing, and--
Yeah, as opposed to the Doublemint Twins.
So give him some of yours. I'm A-negative.
What the hell is your problem?
They're all at the intramural lacrosse finals.
Jeezow, Lana, answer your stupid phone.
ARCHER: The crease, idiots! Guard the crease!
Re-evaluate your entire life. And yes, I'm sure.
I think it's great that for once you're getting out of a jam without your mother's help, but--
Uh, yeah. For your information, almost all male cheerleaders are--
What's your blood type? Heh. How would I know?
Ray? Ray?
Archer. Ray is dying.
Lana, shut up. That's today? Yeah, it's right now. Well, in 10 minutes.
Don't talk like black people.
MALORY: You're no spring chicken yourself.
Whatever. If you're doing it just to get on my nerves, okay, I get it.
You don't know your own blood type, but you know who discovered them.
CYRI L: Well, try.