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Dr. Michael Smith
: I've had terrible dreams, too. Barry Cunningham
: No, not like this.
: This is big. This is huge. Barry Cunningham
: I think it very well could be. Ramon Gaviota
: I want to cook something.
: The same marvelous figures.
: I dreamed about Butchie's son in the bar. Dr. Michael Smith
: You dreamt he was in the bar? Barry Cunningham
: Now he's gone.
: I'm a winner of the Mega Millions Lottery. Ramon Gaviota
: Extraordinary! Even as I try to close the libros of this sordid edifice, write fini to the story of my deflowering at ten in Room twenty four.
: You're going to be fine. Palaka
: Do you hear the dead man singing within, gentlemen? Ramon Gaviota
: I'm half deaf from the leaf-blower. Barry Cunningham
: No, attorney Dickstein? Meyer Dickstein
: Uh, surfer's ear. Existosis of the ear canal. Barry Cunningham
: I, alone, then am favored by the jovially croaking post-coital falsetto winsomely caricaturing Debbie Boone?
] Barry Cunningham
: ... you give me hope... to carry on...
[Reaches in and quickly slams the door to Room Twenty Four
] Ramon Gaviota
: [to Meyer Dickstein
] Maybe we should get him some pea soup...
: [Barry is referring to the large crowd in attendance at the BBQ cookout
] We should make these cookouts a fixture.
: [to Ramon
] Thank goodness I'm not a felon.
: The Motel is haunted.