Guest Marie Mc Donald ( #127)

Hello, Duffy's tavern, what do you late me, D-d-hatchy demand you speakin', Duffy ain't here. Hello, Duffy. Tonight, uh, Marie McDonald, the body. Huh? Well, picture Mrs. Duffy. Now divide by four. Yeah. You ought to see this, McDonald Duffy.

A Sunday school face with a Saturday night figure. And the rest of the week ain't bad neither. Brother, you think I'm vicious and the kitchen is stacked. Hmm, great name, Duffy. She's kind of lying on a ball.

Huh? You said that when you met Mrs. Duffy. Then you found out there was a chain attached to the ball, huh? Look, Duffy, you shouldn't want to talk like that behind your wife's back. Although I admit there's plenty of room for conversation.

Yeah, yeah, that's an insult. Okay, goodbye. What do you live, and what's so funny? Mr. Moriarty just told me a very funny story. It seems it was a traveling salesman. Hold it, Eddie. I gotta tell you something that I'm busting out all over.

You know, Marie McDonald, the movie star? Yeah. We're in love. Oh. Now, why was that funny story you was gonna tell me? Never mind, it can't top yours. You mean to tell me that you're in love with another movie star?

Is that redundant? So why? Well, the last time it was Esther Williams, and before that it was Jean Turner, and before her it was Dorothy LeMour. You finished? No, I can go all the way back to Claribo.

But this time is different, Eddie. With me and Marie, I love burns like hot ashes. You know, we was cremated for each other. She's really my type. I know your type. She's got to be a redhead, a blonde, or a brunette, be tall, or short, and must breathe.