Poor, poor Laura, so near succumbing to the vampire Carmilla!

Papa Titus: What's your rush? Your fifteen kids will still be there when you get home!
Castro: (in a sarcastic, stereotypically Mexican voice) Si, senor. But I have to go feed the donkey. Put on a big sombrero and go sleep underneath a tree. [loses the accent and grumbles]: You racist Irish drunk. (walks away)
Papa Titus: That's my kind of Mexican!
Christopher Titus.  

+Nemo saltat sobrius.
¿Qué demonios es esto? ¿Ustedes los Onces de veras lo comen? ¡Asco, dolor! Podrías agenciarte algo mejor de las cocinas, ¿no? O de la basura.

+Retraso.
Ya era difícil sin Lord Bradley. Y las cosas en su presencia, tendían a empeorar. Así era ahora.

Lena’s note: Happy birthday, Luciano. <3 What? A reason to drink and drown yourself in p0rn is NEVER stupid enough, hahahaha.