Aunt Dorothy: So what kind of godforsaken concoction are you whipping up now? You know how this fancy food clogs my pipes.
Sarah Engel: Well how about we go to your trailer for Christmas next year, hm? And after you spending weeks decorating and cooking and cleaning, I might just waddle in and start bitching and moaning about everything you worked so hard on.
Aunt Dorothy: Oh Sarah, you know I.
Sarah Engel: No, Aunt Dorothy, please! For your sake, just... stay the hell out of my kitchen.
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