Attention, everyone. Max and I have a little late-night treat for you.
Don't say it all excited like that. Now when it's not drugs, Earl's going to be pissed.
You are invited to a very important taste-test of Max's homemade cupcakes.
Okay, but I will have only one.
When I get a tummy, single ladies call me Buddha and rub me for luck.
I gotta watch out, too.
Last time I had Max's chocolate espresso cupcake just before going home,
I was awake till 5:00 A.M., hand washing all my thongs.
Thongs? Earl, you devil.
That's right, just because there's snow on the roof doesn't mean there's not swing in the sling.
Oh, Caroline, darling. Can you go back over there? I forgot my racing form.
Oh, horse racing? It reminds me of Chestnut. Max... Chestnut.
What's with the sad face? Your horse is living it up at a fancy stable nearby.
Not gone to the great stud farm in the sky.
Did someone say "stud farm"? My fee is $10 a quart or $15 if you want a boy.
Wow. You bounced back from your Sophie breakup pretty quick.
It was not a real breakup. I will have her very soon again.
Right now, I lay low and wait in bushes like determined jungle cat.
Or a rapist.