Whatever is pure, whatever is lovely…
|Mort||This kinda marks a first of its kind, in the whole history of picking the Carrot Blossom Queen.|
|Herb||Why? What’s up?|
|Mort||Look at that one, 3rd from the right.|
|Mort||Don’t say anything.|
|Herb||It’s a joke, right?|
|Mort||Not a joke. He, I mean she, is pretty serious. Her carrot cake entry was killer.|
|Herb||Well, this just will not stand. I paid for the billboard this year.|
|Mort||It’s going to be very difficult to stop. He — damn it, I mean “she” — just cleaned up on the dance competition. One of the girls cried he was so good. The rest of the girls — get this — WANT him, I mean her, to win.|
|Herb||Can’t we give some sort of demerit for the grossness factor? That kid has chest hair. He’s competing for carrot blossom queen with a soul patch.|
|Mort||Even if he doesn’t win queen, he-she’s still on the court.|
That’s like going to Radio City Music Hall, looking down this line of gorgeous Rockettes, and seeing Frankenstein in a mini skirt.
|Mort||I dont’ make the rules. What’s wrong with you? You look sick.|
|Herb||Remember Petticoat Junction? The girls pop up over the edge of the water tower, one by one? Do you want to see soul patch and mascara there, jerking that big ugly head over the edge — as your welcome to the Shady Rest Hotel?
For once — can one pure thing just kinda be undefiled, Mort?
|Mort||Shady Rest Motel? You think too much. Maybe we all think too much.|
|Herb||Thinking too much? Is that what you said?|