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Anonymous asked: if karl marx was real he could beat you up, effortlessly. karl marx could rip your little twig body asunder
edwad: i have like half a foot on him and know all of his weaknesses
edwad: wait, "if karl marx was real".... is he... made up?
—found on Tumblr

Steven: ...and that's the whole story.
Bismuth: Hmm...
Steven: Uh, are you okay?
Bismuth: Mmm. Yeah. Hang on a sec. (walks over to lava pool)
Steven: Uh, Bismuth?
Bismuth: (sticks her head under the lava and screams for eight seconds straight before coming back up) OH MY GOSH! It all make sense now!

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To this day, I giggle to myself thinking about what that cop must've been thinking when he saw that. There's Henderson 'driving' the car, taking a hit off a bong the size of God, next to him is a dude who looks like a slightly less fat Kevin Smith looking bored out the window, there's so much smoke inside that you'd think the car's on fire, and there's a couple of people obviously fucking in the back seat. I'd like to think that he was thinking about his family, or going to watch a hockey game at the bar with his friends. Or maybe finally asking the cute waitress out. I just... Some part of me desperately wants to know why it took him two blocks to process what he just saw.

Sally: Um... Cat. Your tail.
Cat in the Hat: What about it? (looks down) Oh, I see! I chopped it off. Well that's interesting, because... SON OF A BI--*bleeeeep*

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Fred: I oughta sue that troublemaker Rubble.
Wilma: Oh, go to bed, Fred. It's all over, and everything turned out alright.
Fred: Well, okay, but if anyone ever mentions a baby again, I'll...
(Wilma suddenly starts crying)
Fred: Wilma, what's the matter?
Wilma: Oh, Fred... (sob) I don't know how to tell you!
Fred: Tell me what?
Fred: I don't hate 'em, I like 'em. (puts the bootie over his nose) It's just that I never had a nose snood before.
Wilma: It's not for you! It's for our baby!
Fred: Well, that's good. I wouldn'ta wanted it anyway. (puts down the bootie) Oh, boy, am I beat. Goodnight, Wilma. (falls asleep and starts snoring; after a few seconds, he opens his eyes) Baby? Nah. (he tries to go back to sleep, then awakens as it dawns on him) A b... b-b-... b-baby? W-Wilma, d-d-did you say—?!
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Wilma: Yes, I said your baby.
Fred: (overjoyed) YABBA-DABBA-DOO!
Wilma: Y-You're not mad at me, Fred?
Fred: Mad at you?! I'm mad about you, sweetheart! (gives her a big kiss on the cheek)
The Flintstones, "The Surprise"

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