Garfield on the Town

R?oul:
I've never seen one of them before. Part house, part cat. Must be one of them housecats.

Jon Arbuckle:
I was afraid he might have been hit by a car.

Dr. Liz Wilson:
In that case, you don't need a vet; you need a tow truck.

Jon Arbuckle:
I'd like to place an ad, please. Lost: beautiful orange-striped tabby cat of the big-boned persuasion. Answers to the name Garfield. When found, he'll probably be hungry. His favorite dish is lasagne, but he'll take pretty much any pasta dish; maybe a nice cavatini, heavy on the meat sauce. Please call Jon Arbuckle anytime at 555-7272. A generous reward is offered. So how much will that cost. [eyes bug out] Oh, I see. In that case, let it read, Lost: fat orange tabby cat. Reward.

[Garfield and Odie have demolished Jon's house as they chase each other through it]

Jon Arbuckle:
Boys, boys, boys. Just look at this room. What am I going to do with you two? Giving you away at the supermarket comes to mind. [Garfield and Odie both look increasingly traumatized by everything that Jon says:] A one-way ticket to the city pound seems like a good idea. Right now, even taxidermy sounds terrific. I work and slave for you, and do I get any thanks for it? No, I don't! What do I get? A demolition derby in my living room! [Garfield and Odie nod toward each other] That's it, Garfield. This is not normal for you. You're hyperactive, and that's serious. I think it's time for a trip... to the vet!

Garfield:
[traumatized] No, no! Not the vet!

Jon Arbuckle:
Hungry, Garfield?

Garfield:
You guessed it, buster.

[first lines]

Garfield:
[waking up] Good morning, Morning. Guess I'll get up, wake Jon, exercise... unless, of course, that floor is cold. I hate cold floors. I'm not getting out of bed if that floor is the slightest bit chilly.

[He places one finger on the floor ever so slightly and cringes]

Garfield:
Yii! It's freezing! Too bad.

[sighs]

Garfield:
...I'm hungry.

Garfield:
[sees his mom leaving Jon's front porch] Thanks Mom, for everything.

Garfield:
[to his shadow] Well, shadow, I guess it's just you and me. Let's take 'em! [his shadow suddenly makes a panicky motion and runs off] Good idea. Wait for me! [runs after his shadow]

Garfield:
I'm sorry I let you down, Mom.

Garfield's Mom:
Oh, there's nothing to be sorry about, Garfield. Not all of us are cut out to be mousers.

Garfield:
I'll say.