[Roger is at this deathbed because his unreleased "bitchiness" turns to bile.]
Roger: OK. Send me Steve. Dance for me.
[Steve dances]
Roger: Mm hm. OK. OK, that's enough. I've got what I need. You are terrible. You've got no rhythm, no coordination. I've... I've seen two epileptics share a bowl of noodles with more grace.
[flower perks up]
Roger: If your goal was to inspire a feeling of despair the like of which hasn't been felt since Whoopi hosted the Oscars, then bravo.
Francine: OK, I think that's enough, Roger.
Stan: Honey, no. It's good for the both of them.
Roger: I can envision millions of Americans and rising up as one and demanding legislation that would require your legs to be amputated, burned and buried next to Hitler. In short, you suck. [at his feet] Oh yeah, that's the stuff

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