Something brushed his leg, and he gazed down into the face of Pippi Tucker. The theme from Jaws raced through his head.

I take thee... to be my awful wedded husband

It must be hard being you,” she said. “Mr. Perfect on the outside. Dr. Evil on the inside.” “It’s not that hard. The rest of the world isn’t as insightful as you.

Take it off first, soldier." He looked at her suspiciously. "Take what off?" "Your clothes. Entertain the troops." "My clothes?" He frowned. "I was sort of thinking you might want to do that for me." She shook her head and leaned back on one elbow, giving him her witchiest, bitchiest smile. "Strip." "Now, listen here, Francie--" Lifting a languid hand, she once again pointed toward the center of the room. "Do it real slow, good-looking," she purred. "I want to enjoy every minute.

The engine roared to life. He ran toward her. She shot our of her parking space. He rushed to the side of her car. "Stop it, Kristy! You're overreacting! Let's talk about this." That was when she did the unthinkable. She rolled down the window, thrust out her hand, and gave Reverend Ethan Bonner the bird.

It runs in the family. And don't expect me to be ashamed. Yankees lock away loony relatives, but down here, we prop 'em up on parade floats and march 'em through the middle of town.

I guess we're oil and water. (Phoebe) I'd say we're more like gasoline and a blowtorch. (Dan)