Another layer for the winter, Woody.
I dunno, I usually finish them before they get a word in.
Norm: Have I gotten that predictable? Good.
Norm: Terrorists, Sam. They’ve taken over my stomach and they’re demanding beer.
Norm: The question is, “What’s going in Mr. Peterson?” A beer please, Woody.
Norm: If you weren’t wearing that uniform, we’d all step outside.
Norm: I know, if she calls, I’m not here.
Norm: Hey I’m high on life, Coach… of course, beer is my life.
Norm: Wonders… doesn’t care… but she wonders.
Norm: A reason to live. Give me another beer.
Going Down?
Norm: Like it caught me sleeping with its wife.