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How about a gross of fluorescent condoms for the the novelty machine in the men's room? I mean, those are fun even when you're alone. We're talkin' the hula hoop of the nineties.
Lancaster Bowl Manager:
Look, I've told you. We don't need nuthin'. We don't even have a novelty machine in the men's room anymore.
And you call yourselves a bowling alley?
Thomas can raise a barn, but can he pick up a 7-10 split?
God blessed my brother to be a good carpenter. It's okay.
Yeah, well he blessed you, too, and I'll give you a hint what it is. It's round, has three holes, and you put your fingers into it.
You leave Rebecca out of this.
It all comes down to this roll. Roy Munson, a man-child, with a dream to topple bowling giant Ernie McCracken. If he strikes, he's the 1979 Odor-Eaters Champion. He's got one foot in the frying pan and one in the pressure cooker. Believe me, as a bowler, I know that right about now, your bladder feels like an overstuffed vacuum cleaner bag and your butt is kinda like an about-to-explode bratwurst.
Hey. Do you mind? I wasn't talking when you were bowling.
Was I talking out loud? Was I? Sorry. Good luck.