Bank Dick

Boy in bank:
Mommy, doesn't that man have a funny nose?

Mother in bank:
You mustn't make fun of the gentleman, Clifford. You'd like to have a nose like that full of nickels, wouldn't you?

Myrtle Sousé:
I'll starve myself to death, it's the easiest way out. It's not so difficult to do. I tried it yesterday afternoon.

Egbert Sousé:
Og Oggilby... sounds like a bubble in a bathtub!

Egbert Sousé:
Was I in here last night and did I spend a twenty dollar bill?

Joe Guelpe:
Yeah.

Egbert Sousé:
Oh boy, what a load that is off my mind! I thought I'd lost it.

Elsie Mae Adele Brunch Sousé:
Shall I bounce a rock off his head?

Agatha Sousé:
Respect your father, darling. What kind of a rock?

J. Frothingham Waterbury:
Gosh!... Oh, pardon my language.

Egbert Sousé:
That's okay. I swear sometimes myself.

Egbert Sousé:
My uncle, a balloon ascensionist, Effingham Hoofnagle, took a chance. He was three miles and a half up in the air. He jumped out of the basket of the balloon and took a chance of landing on a load of hay.

Og Oggilby:
Golly! Did he make it?

Egbert Sousé:
Uh... no. He didn't. Had he been a younger man, he probably would have made it. That's the point. Don't wait too long in life.

Egbert Sousé:
Don't be a luddy-duddy! Don't be a mooncalf! Don't be a jabbernowl! You're not those, are you?

Myrtle Sousé:
I'll bet that's Og!

Mrs. Hermisillo Brunch:
Mmm, he's got her bettin' now. She never gambled 'fore she met him.

Egbert Sousé:
I'm very fond of children. Girl children, around eighteen and twenty.

Og Oggilby:
Oh... I knew this would happen! I was a perfect idiot to ever listen to you!

Egbert Sousé:
You listen to me, Og! There's nothing in this world that is perfect.

Egbert Sousé:
The jockey was a very insulting fellow. He referred to my proboscis as an adscititious excrescence. I had to tweak his nose.

Egbert Sousé:
Ten cents a share. Telephone sold for five cents a share. How would you like something better for ten cents a share? If five gets ya ten, ten'll get ya twenty. A beautiful home in the country, upstairs and down. Beer flowing through the estate over your grandmother's paisley shawl.

Og Oggilby:
Beer?

Egbert Sousé:
Beer! Fishing in the stream that runs under the aboreal dell. A man comes up from the bar, dumps $3,500 in your lap for every nickel invested. Says to you, "Sign here on the dotted line." And then disappears in the waving fields of alfalfa.

Egbert Sousé:
He’s as crooked as a dogs hind leg.