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Mulligan: What happened here?
Little Bonaparte: [
referring to Spats and his thugs] There was something in that cake that didn't agree with them.
Mulligan: My compliments to the chef. Nobody leaves this room until I get the recipe.
Little Bonaparte: You wanna make a federal case of it?
Mulligan: [
grabs the speaker of Little Bonaparte's hearing aid] Yeah!
Little Bonaparte: [
thick Italian accent] Thank you, fellow opera-lovers. It's been ten years since I elected myself president of dis organization... an' if I say so myself, you made duh right choice. Let's look at duh record: In duh lass fissel year we made a hundred an' twelve million dollars before taxes... only we ain't paying no taxes!