Elmer Fudd:
[has Sylvester at gunpoint]
Now I've got you, and I'm gonna wub you out compwetwy.
Sylvester:
Now just a minute, my fine feathered friend. Ain't you got no aesthetic sense? No ear for musical appreciation?
Elmer Fudd:
No, and I'm gonna bwow you to smitheweens.
Sylvester:
[singing]
Go to sleep, go to sleep...
Elmer Fudd:
[getting sleepy]
Stop it.
Sylvester:
...shut your big, blood-shot eyes...
Elmer Fudd:
Now you stop that.
[falls asleep]
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:58
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