(xx) Eight Million Jobs

It's 10 o'clock in the morning as I see it opens now. I can't go into that with you right this minute, Mr. Bar. You have caught me in the middle of my house, but I'm about to hear on the phone.

Mr. Bar, the time to discuss your stingyberry jam this morning. Ball, ball, boo. BB Bar wants me to be his agent and sell his stingyberry jam to the Simbook Club, ladies. Ish. Well, what's all this now?

Are you home for good or are you going someplace? But if you're gonna stay home, I can share you some help. I've bit off just about as much as I can chew this morning. I wouldn't have come home at all.

How'd you happen to come in the front way? Oh, a letter from that bass, huh? Give it here. No, postal card for my Sunday school teacher. The same old thing. We missed your Sunday school last Sunday.

Why did she do that? I was at Sunday school last Sunday. I was at Sunday school last Sunday as big as a horse. Well, are you a stan or are you an even? I got you and God's overalls down.

Sellers, so can going to wash them pretty soon. I got beef, punk, cost, cooking on the stove. I got 19 arm loads of trash on that exterior stand. Sell hungry and sell hungry. Oh, it's wood on the morning like this.

Answer it, will you? Here's the postal card. Don't hand me the postal card. I don't want the postal card. Keep the postal card. Well, answer the postal card. Yeah, answer the postal card. Well, you go answer that postal card.