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Zombie BBQ05:16

Zombie BBQ

Transcript:

Stephen: Yes, I'm just meeting my boss' family at a barbecue right now. I just have to lay on the charm and I'll be the youngest partner in the firm in no time. Alright, yes, I'll talk to you later.

Stephen: Hey boss, how are you doing?
Matt: Johnson, so glad you could come.
Stephen: Thanks for inviting me.
Matt: Of course.
Stephen: Wow, if that food tastes as good as it smells, you'll have to roll me out of here on a stretcher.
Matt: Stretcher, that's a good one, Johnson.
Stephen: I know.

Matt: Oh, let me introduce my wife Gloria.
Stephen: Your wife? You must have misspoken, this has to be your daughter.
Whitney: Oh, what a charming boy!
Matt: And this is my lovely and single daughter Tiffany, emphasis on single.
Stephen: You mean emphasis on lovely.
Mallory: Oh.
Matt: Oh, behave yourself!
Stephen: Okay.

Matt: And uh… finally over there is my son Mark.
Stephen: Mark? Oh. Zombie!
Matt: What did you say?
Stephen: Romney, I voted for him in the last election.
Matt: Ah well, we're democrats.
Stephen: Oh, I hope he dies.
Matt: That seems a little excessive.
Stephen: Dyes…  dyes his hair, you know, it's greying… on the sides.
Mallory: Oh yes, yes it is.
Whitney: It is.
Stephen: Oh.

Matt: Are you alright, Johnson? It looks like you've seen death.
Stephen: That's funny, uhm… just, just hungry. That's all.
Matt: A man after my own heart. Let's eat.
Stephen: Yes, that's good.

Matt: I hope you're all hungry for some fresh meat!
Whitney: Oh. Mark, will you pass the chips? Thank you.
Stephen: Do you want a roll, or something?
Whitney: Mark doesn't eat food, dear.
Stephen: What does he eat?
Matt: We have no idea.

Matt: So tell me about that Carlsen-case. It sounds like a real doozie.
Stephen: Yes well, as you know, Bob Carlsen, he got rear-ended by a semi…
Matt: Go on.
Stephen: So our next move's gonna be to countersue. That way we probably get more money out of the whole...Can I change seats, please? The sun, it's hurting my shoulder, I mean eyes.
Matt: Oh, of course. Why don't you come sit here next to Tiffany?
Stephen: Okay.

Whitney: Oh dear, I forgot the drinks. I'll go get them.
Matt: Oh, I'll come with you, snookems.
Mallory: Oh, I can help.
Stephen: I could… I can help as well.
Matt: Nonsense, my boy. You just stay here and enjoy yourself.
Stephen: Please. Take me with you.
Matt: Don't be silly. You and Mark just stay here and enjoy some good old-fashioned male bonding. I'm going to need that apron back, ace. Okay.

Jason: Raa, wraa.
Stephen: So, you… you play any sports?
Jason: Brains.
Stephen: Tennis?
Jason: Brains!
Stephen: No! Please, no! Boss! Why would you lock the… Ah! Get out of here! I have beaten Resident Evil, four times! Ah! Oh my goodness! Don't. No! Oh my… I kill… ah…

Matt: Well, who is thirsty? Oh my.
Stephen: Your son. I was… He was trying to eat my brain, I… I didn't really want him to do that. I…I'm sorry.
Matt: What on earth are you talking about?
Stephen: Ah!
Matt: Well, that happens at least once a week.
Stephen: So uh… I just got a text from my grandpa. He has a foot… concussion, so I'll prob… I'll probably need to go give some blood.
Matt: Blood, you say? You should talk to my nephew Jeremy. He is obsessed with blood.

Jeremy: Ten-second-rule, alright?

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