Marshall: Oh, yeah. Who's your guitar-player-biker who couldn't find mild salsa... but said screw it and went medium bad boy?
Lily: Marshall, your hand!
Future Ted: [v.o.] Okay, I'm pretty sure it wasn't that bad, but this is how uncle Marshall likes to tell the story.
Marshall: Oh, yeah, no, that's the cuff. I'm woozy, and I can't flex my fingers, and the rotten fish smell is getting stronger. But I'm learning to compensate with my left.
Lily: Is that why last night when I asked you to honka honka me you only honka'd me?
Marshall: I didn't think you noticed.
Lily: Snap's been jealous of Crackle all day. Just take the cuff off.
Marshall: No, but, baby, then all the sex will stop.
Lily: Marshall, you don't need a cuff for me to find you sexy. All you have to do is smile, and I'm ready for you to hop on Pop.
Marshall: Thanks baby.
Lily: Are you too woozy to do it one last time before we seek emergency medical attention?
Marshall: Only one way to find out.