Walter Shit: You see? There's really no way to get a rent-controlled apartment.
Joe F. Grotowski: No way at all?
Walter Shit: Well, I mean, only if it's like, your mom's apartment, and, y'know, she, like, croaks! (Mrs. Grotowski walks out of the apartment building) Oh, how ya doin', Mrs. Grotowski! (Mrs. Grotowski coughs up her keys, which land in Joe's hand)
Joe F. Grotowski: Oh my God!
Walter Shit: Joe! Mrs. Grotowski doesn't have any family. You pose as her son, take her apartment!
Joe F. Grotowski: What?!? I... I couldn't...!
Walter Shit: (faking grief) Oh my God! Joe, it's your mother! And she's dead!
Joe F. Grotowski: No way at all?
Walter Shit: Well, I mean, only if it's like, your mom's apartment, and, y'know, she, like, croaks! (Mrs. Grotowski walks out of the apartment building) Oh, how ya doin', Mrs. Grotowski! (Mrs. Grotowski coughs up her keys, which land in Joe's hand)
Joe F. Grotowski: Oh my God!
Walter Shit: Joe! Mrs. Grotowski doesn't have any family. You pose as her son, take her apartment!
Joe F. Grotowski: What?!? I... I couldn't...!
Walter Shit: (faking grief) Oh my God! Joe, it's your mother! And she's dead!
Walter Shit: You see? There's really no way to get a rent-controlled apartment.
Joe F. Grotowski: No way at all?
Walter Shit: Well, I mean, only if it's like, your mom's apartment, and, y'know, she, like, croaks! (Mrs. Grotowski walks out of the apartment building) Oh, how ya doin', Mrs. Grotowski! (Mrs. Grotowski coughs up her keys, which land in Joe's hand)
Joe F. Grotowski: Oh my God!
Walter Shit: Joe! Mrs. Grotowski doesn't have any family. You pose as her son, take her apartment!
Joe F. Grotowski: What?!? I... I couldn't...!
Walter Shit: (faking grief) Oh my God! Joe, it's your mother! And she's dead !
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