It's your son,Achmed Junior.
ACHMED:Wait... I thoughtyou were dead!
This is great.
Hey! What happenedto your face?
Oh, yeah.My bad.
Achmed, he's your son.Look at him. What do you see?
Well, he does have my eye.
Actually, I do. Yes, I do.
Why do you soundlike Elton John?
When you were separatedafter the accident,
he was raised in England.
Did my mum miss me?
Uh... yeah. I don't know.What the hell.
How do you not know?
What's wrongwith your leg?
What's wrongwith my leg?
I don't know.
Can you fix this?No, I don't think so.
Don't look at me.Sorry.
Um, we're going to getMarnel to help us.
What?Marnel, he works for me.
I know Mar, Mar,Marnel!
Come fix my leg!
He's kind of cute.
Okay, moving on!
Wait a minute. How do younot know who his mother is?
I had 46 wives,you idiot.
They all dressed the same,and their faces were covered.
How'd you tell them apart?
The numbers on their backs.
I know, Mother's Dayis a bitch.
And so are mostof the mothers.
That's not funny at all.
"Atall"?Who is "Atall"?
Was she your mother?I don't remember
a woman who was allbulgy-eyed like you.
Bulgy-eyed?Well, look at him.
Well, you're notexactly squinting.
At least my face is balanced.
You manage to look asleep andterrified all at the same time.
Achmed, he's your son.Well, the apple
doesn't fall farfrom the tree,
and apparently this one gotrun over by a (bleep) lawnmower.