D.W. : Boys are silly.
D.W. : [at the dinner table] Arthur, in that game, do you have to fight out schules of evil fishsticks?
Mom : [D.W. throws her food up into the air] DW, eat your dinner. Don't fight with it.
D.W. : Poor little fishsticks. Here comes a crab to gobble them up.
Arthur : Maybe Mom will change her mind, and let me play Deep Dark Sea with her tomorrow.
D.W. : In your deep dark... dreams, Arthur.
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