Timon: Look,
kid. Bad things happen, and you can't do anything about it. Right?
Simba: Right.
Timon: Wrong!
When the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world.
|
|
Timon: Gee. He looks blue. Pumbaa: I'd say brownish-gold. Timon: No, I mean he's depressed. Pumbaa: Oh. |
|
|
Timon: Alrighty |
|
|
Timon: Carnivors oyh... |
|
|
Timon: HiHiHi, it gets them every time. |
|
|
Timon: Hey this looks like a good spot to rustle up some grubs. Simba: What's that? Timon: A grub. What's it look like? Simba: Ewwwww, gross. Timon: Tastes like chicken. |
|
|
Timon: Nice one
Simba. Simba: Thanks. |
|
|
Timon: Pumbaa,
not in front of the kids. Pumbaa: Oh sorry. |
|
|
Timon: These are a real delecasy. Piquant with a pleasant crunch. |
|
|
Timon: Tastes like chicken. |
|
|
Timon: The Lion sleeps tonight... |
|
|
Timon: The little creamfilled kind. |
|
|
Timon: Who is the brain of this outfit? My point exactly. |
|
|
Timon: Why do I always have to save your AAAHHH. |
|
|
Timon: Lady, have you got your lions crossed. |
|
|
Timon: Let me get this straight. You know her, and she knows you, but she wants to eat him. And everyone's okay with that? DID I MISS SOMETHING? |
|
|
Timon: We're gonna fight your uncle... for this? Simba: Yes, Timon. This is my home. Timon: Whoa. Talk about your fixer-upper. |