Don't buy this tree, Foxy. You're borrowing at nine-and-a-half with no fixed rate, plus moving into the most dangerous neighborhood in the country for someone of your type of species.
You're exaggerating, Badger.
[scoffs]
I'm sugar-coating it, man. This is Boggis, Bunce, and Bean; three of the meanest, nastiest, UGLIEST farmers in the history of this valley.
Really? Tell me about them.
[sighs]
All right. Walt Boggis is a chicken farmer, probably the most successful in the world. He weighs the same as a young rhinoceros. He eats three chickens every day for breakfast, lunch, supper, and dessert. That's twelve in total per diem. Nate Bunce is a duck and goose farmer. He's approximately the size of a pot-bellied dwarf, and his chin would be underwater in the shallow end of any swimming pool on the planet. His food is homemade donuts with smashed up goose livers injected into them. Frank Bean is a turkey and apple farmer. He invented his own species of each. He lives on a liquid diet of strong alcoholic cider, which he makes from his apples. He's as skinny as a pencil, as smart as a whip, and possibly the scariest man currently living. The local human children sing a kind of... eerie little rhyme about him. Here, listen to this. [turns on the radio]
[singing]
♪ Boggis, Bunce, and Bean. One fat, one short, one lean. Those horrible crooks so different in looks, were nonetheless equally mean. ♪
I understand what you're saying, and your comments are valuable, but I'm gonna ignore your advice.
The cuss you are.
The cuss am I? Are you cussing with me?
No, you cussing with me?
Don't cuss, and point at me!
If you're gonna cuss with somebody, you're not gonna cuss with me, you little cuss!
You're not gonna cuss with me! [Both start snarling at each other. Linda pushes the typewriter and they settle down] Just buy the tree.
Okay.
