It’s a hot night. The mind races. You think about your knife; the only friend who hasn’t betrayed you, the only friend who won’t be dead by sun-up. Sleep tight, mates, in your quilted Chambray nightshirts.
But I don’t want to be a pirate!
Who is this?
It moved! It was imperceptible but I felt it.
There was shrinkage!
Those brave Krakatoans East of Java, who sacrificed so much for so long.
I could drop you like a bag of dirt.
Oh, gee, I can’t talk right now. Why don’t you give me your home number and I’ll call you later.
You know… I was alone…
You’re giving me the “It’s Not You, It’s Me” routine? I invented “It’s Not You, It’s Me”! No one tells me it’s them, not me! If it’s anybody, it’s me!
See, this is what the holidays are all about. Three buddies sitting around chewing gum.
There are many subtle variations only discernible to an acute observer that reflect the many moods, the many shades, the many sides of George Costanza… this is Morning Mist.
He recycled this gift. He’s a regifter.
I’m as slippery as an eel!
The carpet sweeper is the biggest scam perpetrated on the American public since One Hour Martinizing.
George: Have you ever seen Elaine dance?
Jerry: Elaine danced?!
George: It’s more like a full-body dry heave set to music.
I invented ‘It’s not you, it’s me’!
Serenity now! Serenity now!
It’s very important not to embellish on your order. No extraneous comments. No questions. No compliments.
Um, excuse me, I - I think you forgot my bread.