[Poopdeck Pappy]:
There's one way to prove I ain't your father! Pick up that can of spinach. Pick it up! Now bring it over here. Now eat it
[Popeye]:
Eat it?
[Poopdeck Pappy]:
Eat it!
[Popeye]:
Raw?
I am poppa to no male, nor no female child that no court could prove otherwise! And certainly not the likes of always skinny-pated, sissy-pated frump like you. Children! Children! Kids! Children! Give them everything they want, and what do you gets in return? Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! But heartache, heartache, sadness, and misеry! And a bad time once in a while whеn you try to give them a bath, and they don't want it! And another bad time when you wanna do something that you really wanna do, but all they wanna do is know what you wanna do! Bless their little hearts. If they were really made out of gold, I'd like to sell them on the open marketplace, and make me a fortune! Kids! They don't know what they're doing. Kids! Dad-blast them, they're gonna lead you to ruin! They cry at you when they're young, they yell at you when they're older, they borrow from you when they're middle-aged, and they leave you alone to die--without even paying you back! Children! Phooey! Give them everything they want, and what do you get back in return? You get nothing! Why they're just smaller versions of us, you know, and I'm not so crazy about me in the first place--so why would I want one of them? I ask you. Children! Ah, children. Sure they're soft, they're cuddly, they're friendly when they wanna be. They know how to smile, and get what they want; but that's not enough, if you know what I mean--and I think you know what I mean. 'Cause I'm talking about kids. Phooey! Phooey on all of them! Why, my greatest hope in life is that someday, one of them might grow up and get married, so they can have children! Oh, they're okay for some people, I guess, but then again, some people's children--blah! Lock up the little morphodites! Try feeding one at three in the morning, you'll see what I mean if you know what I mean. I hope you know what I mean 'cause I sure know what I mean. I think that's why I don't like them very much. Because you pour your heart out to them, you give them everything they want: give them candy, and a lotta toys, and what do you get back? You get a lotta noise! "Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah!" I'm through with children, I'm through with kids and there ain't nothing I'm never gonna do about it! First of all, they should be born when they're 21. That way they can vote right away, which is what they already wanted to do, since the minute they got here. They wanna run things, they wanna run everything! They wanna run the world, and that's what they're gonna do someday. They ain't gonna stop until it's called "The Planet of the Little Morphodites"!
There's one way to prove I ain't your father! Pick up that can of spinach. Pick it up! Now bring it over here. Now eat it
[Popeye]:
Eat it?
[Poopdeck Pappy]:
Eat it!
[Popeye]:
Raw?
I am poppa to no male, nor no female child that no court could prove otherwise! And certainly not the likes of always skinny-pated, sissy-pated frump like you. Children! Children! Kids! Children! Give them everything they want, and what do you gets in return? Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! But heartache, heartache, sadness, and misеry! And a bad time once in a while whеn you try to give them a bath, and they don't want it! And another bad time when you wanna do something that you really wanna do, but all they wanna do is know what you wanna do! Bless their little hearts. If they were really made out of gold, I'd like to sell them on the open marketplace, and make me a fortune! Kids! They don't know what they're doing. Kids! Dad-blast them, they're gonna lead you to ruin! They cry at you when they're young, they yell at you when they're older, they borrow from you when they're middle-aged, and they leave you alone to die--without even paying you back! Children! Phooey! Give them everything they want, and what do you get back in return? You get nothing! Why they're just smaller versions of us, you know, and I'm not so crazy about me in the first place--so why would I want one of them? I ask you. Children! Ah, children. Sure they're soft, they're cuddly, they're friendly when they wanna be. They know how to smile, and get what they want; but that's not enough, if you know what I mean--and I think you know what I mean. 'Cause I'm talking about kids. Phooey! Phooey on all of them! Why, my greatest hope in life is that someday, one of them might grow up and get married, so they can have children! Oh, they're okay for some people, I guess, but then again, some people's children--blah! Lock up the little morphodites! Try feeding one at three in the morning, you'll see what I mean if you know what I mean. I hope you know what I mean 'cause I sure know what I mean. I think that's why I don't like them very much. Because you pour your heart out to them, you give them everything they want: give them candy, and a lotta toys, and what do you get back? You get a lotta noise! "Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah!" I'm through with children, I'm through with kids and there ain't nothing I'm never gonna do about it! First of all, they should be born when they're 21. That way they can vote right away, which is what they already wanted to do, since the minute they got here. They wanna run things, they wanna run everything! They wanna run the world, and that's what they're gonna do someday. They ain't gonna stop until it's called "The Planet of the Little Morphodites"!
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