Betcha

Hugh: There was a time I rode a roller coaster, from Coney Island to Key West, I held on with one finger, so the other ten could rest.

Mick: Harry Connick Jr, not to be confused with Sammy Davis Jr.

Hugh: Out there is a fortune waiting to be had, if you think I’ll let it go you’re mad.

Mick: Judas Priest, not to be confused with Judas Iscariot, Rob Halford, of the Halford’s of Halfordville.

Hugh: Nicole is my oldest friend but the altar’s empty and she’ll never be a little girl again.

Mick: Adam Duritz, Counting Crows, not his best line. Too obvious.

Hugh: Her placenta falls to the floor.

Mick: Live, polish name, close enough.

Hugh: Black antennae waiving.

Mick: Dave Matthews, douche.

Hugh: Nine feet high and six feet wide.

Mick: John Denver, grandma’s feather bed. I seriously doubt the measurements. He was a stoner.

Hugh: Flag pole racking and the wind won’t stop.

Mick: Winger.

Hugh: WRONG!!!! The Police!

Mick: No wonder I didn’t know it. The Police suck.

Hugh: How can you not know it? They repeat lines like a billion times a song!

Mick: Which only proves they suck.

Hugh: You were still wrong and I win the bet. Pay up.

Mick: Fine, I’ll clean your bidet.

Hugh:and…

Mick: after a night of heavy drinking…

Hugh: of only the worst malt liquor available

Mick: Fine.

Hugh: and…

Mick: Copious amounts of chili and kashi cereal.

Hugh: You should think about the kind of bets you take.

Mick: You should think about your intestines.

Hugh: My intestines should think about my intestines.

Mick: The Police?