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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Her late father, that is.
Just a minute.
Oh, that's right.
Goodbye, Pop.
He won't find none.
But if they don't allow folks to have a stock, why have they got that old fired fancy stock pen down there?
Friendly things like, uh, howdy there.
What's a Halloween?
I made them with store-bought yard goods.
I recognize a good time as any to let the cat out of the bag.
It's called a field telephone.
Yes.
I tell you, Jed, this place is full of the laziest, greasiest, unfriendliest mess of people I ever did lay my eyes on.
Well, that's quite all right.
Come on, Jed, we'll load up the truck and let's head for home.
Hold on there.
This is home.
Uh, well, uh, what brings you girls here on this beautiful Indian summer day?
What in tarnation is a tennis?
You see, we're using it as a sort of a field office.
Why not?
We's the Clampetts.
There ain't no fish in there.
He said, that dog had his rabies shot?
Come on, everybody, let's go.
Excuse me, ma'am.
You carry me away.
And Jethro, that's you and Je... Here.
You reckon they'll give us a mess of powder or something, Pop?
And for my part, they can give Beverly Hills back to the Indians.
Well, let's see now, uh, which neighbor should we call on first?