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: Listen. Why don't you sit her down and tell her that if anything ever happens to you, I will take care of her. Okay? I will raise her, I will nurture her, I will love her, and then when she's sixteen, I'll boot her out the door. Frank
: Sixteen? Bob
: Well, yeah. I not going to mommy her forever, okay? I mean, sixteen, sure.
: Hey muscles! You don't look so good. Frank
: I feel a little fluey. Bob
: You know what they say; starve a cold, drown the flu. Your body needs fluids now, lots of 'em. Frank
: Is beer fluid? Bob
: Of course it's fluid. What about all that wet stuff in it? Frank
: I thought that was the beer.