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 Laugh Lines, Love Lines

Once More, With Feeling  

The lyrics to the songs are here.

Xander: Respect the cruller and tame the donut!
Anya: That's still funny, sweetie.

Buffy: So did anybody... last night, did anybody um... burst into song?
Xander: Merciful Zeus!
Willow: We thought it was just us!
Giles: Well, I sang but I had my guitar at the hotel...
Tara: It was bizarre. We were talking and then it was like-
Buffy: Like you were in a musical!
Giles: That would explain the huge backing orchestra I couldn't see and the synchronized dancing from the room service chaps.
Willow: We did a whole duet about dish washing.
Anya: And we were arguing and then everything rhymed and there were harmonies and the dance with coconuts.
Willow: There was an entire verse about the cous-cous.
Xander: It was very disturbing.

Giles: What did you sing about?
Buffy: I don't remember. But it seemed perfectly normal.

Xander: But disturbing and not the natural order of things. And do you think it'll happen again?

Xander: See, okay that was disturbing.
Willow: I thought it was neat.
Buffy: So what is it? What's causing it?
Giles: I thought it didn't matter.
Buffy: Well, I'm not exactly quaking in my stylish, yet affordable boots, but there's definitely something unnatural going on here and that doesn't usually lead to hugs and puppies.

Tara: Those boys really thought I was hot?
Willow: Entirely!
Tara: Oh, my god... I'm cured! I want the boys!

Anya: Will you still make me waffles when we're married?
Xander: No, I'll only make them for myself but by California law, you will own half of them.

Anya: Of course! Clearly our number is a retro pastiche that's never going to be a breakaway pop hit.
Xander: Work with me, British man. Give me an axe and show me where to point it.

Spike: The sun sets and she appears. Come to serenade me?
Buffy: So you know what's going on?
Spike: Well, I've seen some damn funny things the last two days. Six-hundred pound Chirago demon making like Yma Sumac. That one'll stay with you. I remain immune, happy to say.

Spike: Drink?
Buffy: A world of no.

Spike: Oh. So that's all. You just come to pump me for information.
Buffy: What else would I want to pump you for? I really just said that, didn't I?

Dawn: Math. It seemed cooler when we were singing about it.

Dawn: So you're like a good demon? Bringing the fun in?

Buffy: Yeah, I'm pretty spry for a corpse.

Spike: Strong. Someday he'll be a real boy.
Buffy: So... Dawn's in trouble. Must be Tuesday.

Xander: Spike sang a wittle song?
Anya: Would you say it was a breakaway pop hit or more of a book number?
Xander: Let it go, sweetie.

Sweet: What if I kill you?
Buffy: Trust me. Won't help.
Sweet: That's gloomy.
Buffy: That's life.

Spike: You should go back inside. Finish the big group-sing. Get your kum-bay-yayas out.
Buffy: I don't want to.
Spike: The day you suss out what you do want, there'll probably be a parade. Seventy-six bloody trombones.


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