[Cliff enters the bar]
Sam: Hey, Cliffy. How ya doin'?
Cliff: Not well, Sam. Boy am I mad. I've never been this upset! Three words, fellas. Three words... "Dames is grief"!
Norm: Fighting with ma, huh?
Cliff: Oh and how. Seems like that's all we do anymore. You know, you'd think it'd be a perfect set-up: a mother and a grown son living in a one-bedroom apartment. But, no. Reality check, gentlemen! Life is not like the movies, I guess, huh.
Sam: I'm sure it'll all blow over, Cliffy.
Cliff: Oh, no way, Sammy; not this time. I tell you that broad's pushed me too hard - too hard, I tell ya! And it's about time I started pushin' back. She's just gone and created a monster, that's all. But this monster is not gonna lie in some tomb of ice, no siree. My anger will melt that ice so that I might rise up and... and crush the Tokyo of the buildings there beneath the talons of my animosity...
Frasier: [interrupts] Cliff. Cliff. We all appreciate how hard you're working on this metaphor, but we get the idea.

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