That's my job.

Somebody stole my flowers.

No, my goat's mother.

All my friends saw me.

No, her mother ate my hat.

I'll start with my rheumatism medicine first.

I'm fixing to drop in my tonic stagger.

I'm only here so my husband will listen to me.

It's a dandy New Year's present.

Well, it's putting near New Year's.

My husband doesn't believe me, but I think it's a bear.

Their goat once ate my hat while driving down Wilshire Boulevard.

Wake her up, Ellie, so I can give her my medicine.

But I'm going to whop up my special nerve tonic and take it to her.

I bottled it of my greens, but I got plenty more injured in the crop.

Come and listen to my story about a man named Jed, a poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed.

You see, they'd insisted on driving me to the bank, and Ellie thrust this baby goat in my arms.

And the possums and the raccoons, and that dreadful creature that runs across my roof at night, its claws clicking.

Sweetie, the clamps aren't at all... It is my New Year's resolution not to return home until you have rid the neighborhood of those untouchables.

What a shame you had to fly out from New York.