Smooch: Heaven help me. That pesky burro is on his way over here to harass me...I just know it.
Smooch: Maybe he'll leave me alone if I ignore him.
George: Don't flatter yourself. I'm more interested in the hay stuck behind the seat than I am in you.
Me: Could we all just get along, please? I'd like to take a picture. Say cheese.
Smooch: Monterey Jack-ass.
Smooch: Don't you be messin' with me. I'm a known assassin. Just ask the squirrel.
Well, it's too late to ask him now, but you know what I mean.
Smooch: But you do have kind eyes...and mom sure adores you...
Smooch: I guess we can be friends after all.