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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
That's enough.
Like a quilt.
Give me a for-instance.
Bloody Xander, buggered up everything.
So, this is it?
I can't.
Xander. Let's not waste any more breath on that wanker.
Buffy?
OK, wait.
Actually, yes.
When we're ready.
Get a wish from someone who doesn't freaking love him.
- Anya, wait... - OK. Not crazy about that idea.
I think I've got the Magic Box.
Thank you.
To tell you the truth, all I wanted was to use him and lose him.
- How ya doin'? - Fine.
Wait, Xander, no.
OK, how about this store?
No, the mature solution is for you to spend your whole life telling stupid jokes,
- I never use that word any more. - Coagulate?
So, tell me more about wishing Xander's brains and guts would go blooey.
- Wanting his head, you know... - Yeah.
They've tapped into our feed.
I didn't...
And Buffy's OK too? Enjoying the refreshing sanity and so forth?
Did I mention the "left at the altar" thing? Didn't leave that out, did I?
Whoa. Guys? There have only been four... three. Three. Three guys.