Assistant: [on Phone] Oh, Here He Comes. What Is It Now, Quimby?

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Assistant: [on phone] Oh, here he comes. What is it now, Quimby?
Quimby: Nothing, nothing. Only the, er, city has just passed another
tax on puffy directing pants.
Director: [exasperated] But I don't wear puffy pants!
Quimby: I meant a tax on _not_ wearing puffy pants.
Assistant: Oy.
Quimby: I'm sorry. [sounding anything but]
-- More stringent than the "two comely lasses" thing,
"Radioactive Man"

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