(SNORING)
Waffles, Tom. It's your lucky Saturday.
Wow! You know he's tired when the food can't wake him.
(SLURPS)
(SNORING)
Ooh, lots of syrup.
(SLURPS)
Well, sleepyhead.
I see you weren't too tired to polish off that waffle after all.
And what are you doing with my good knitting needles?
(CHUCKLES)
(THUDDING)
RICK: Honey, it's ten to nine.
GINGER: What timing. Thanks, Rick.
You ready? We tee off in ten minutes.
GINGER: I just wanted to finally get my grammy's cuckoo clock hung up.
It's been on my to-do list for weeks.
Hey, you know, I've never been cuckoo for cuckoo clocks before,
but it does look nice.
Yes, it adds something.
It's a family heirloom.
So, Tom, you keep your paws off it, you hear?
That's not a real bird that pops out of there. It's a fake.
-Got it? -Yeah, all right already.
Let's hit the links.
(DOOR CLOSES)
(YAWNS)
(SNORING)
(CLOCK DINGS)
(THUDDING)
(CRASHES)
(CLOCK DINGS)
I just want to meet our new neighbor, Uncle Jer.
(GRUNTS)
What? No doorbell?
(CRASHES)
Not very neighborly.
I'll try the cellar door.
(GRUNTING)
Well, hello there.
Hope you don't mind me dropping in.
Not exactly a chatterbox, are you?
I mean, saying one word an hour is hardly a filibuster.
You gotta get out more.
Nothing, huh?
Come on. Your beak's open. You're half-way there.
Oh, well, no worries. I'm happy to do the talking.
I think you're gonna like it here.
The only thing you really gotta watch out for is that cat.
But don't worry, he's not all that smart.
I mean, me and Uncle Jerry swipe food from his dish
all the time, and he's too lazy to even notice.
We've probably eaten more of his treats than he has.
Anyway,
nice place you got here.
A little dust free for my tastes.
But...
I hate to tell you this, but I think you got mice.
Excuse me a minute.
(SCREAMING)
Hmm. That explains the wooden personality.
(SCREAMING)
This table is reserved, loser.
(TEETH CLATTERING)
Hmm, more syrup.
(BOTH SLURP)
(EXPLODING)
Better test the cuckoo.
(TIRES SCREECHING)
(SCREAMING)
Good round, honey.
Yeah, I shot my best round ever.
Yep, I like the clock there.
Huh, me too.
That's my boy, Tom.
I knew I could trust you not to mess with it.
Yeah, good job, cat.
Hey, what's for dinner?
GINGER: You tell me.
Loser cooks, rember.
RICK: Man, I gotta pick up my game.
(SIGHS IN RELIEF)
Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo.
Nah, it'll look good on my resume.
Cuckoo.