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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Things work themselves around.
Barely looks like it can reach the end of the lot.
I hate Kaiser.
- What do you want me to do? Ask... - Find out. Ask whoever's in there.
The 32, they're pleased the way this worked out with Samcro.
Prefer it didn't end up in your bag again.
How much longer? - All right.
I can give him some Advil.
Not sure I can make that promise.
Hope it wasn't a return.
- What's the run? - Blood drive.
I'm delivering the guns.
Have we got it all? Yeah, we got everything.
That's what prospects are for.
Call Red Bluff. We need this guy shuttled. Quicker the better.
- I've got nothing outstanding in Oregon. - 2001?
How's that working out for you?
What the hell you talking about, you can't take him?
- Ugh. - Knock it off.
Thanks, old man.
Don't drag me into whatever bullshit...
- Hunt down the keys to the gold Sebring. - Sure, darling.
- Chibs, Sack, come on. What's up?
Roll it up, strap it on.
- Whoa. - Whoa, whoa, whoa!
All right, guys. Pack it up.
Okay. Come on. Okay, real mature, guys.
- Don't move! Or we'll blow your balls off!
You hitting the gay rodeo on the way?
I said, I got it.
You all right?
Come on. Come on. I don't know what that means.
Stupid shit. But everybody's got to calm down.
Easy there, darling.