Why do you break pots? Give me my smoke.

Sometimes he breaks pots.

saucepans, animal noises, grinding teeth, whatever...

Pots and pans, my foot! You want me to buy new pots and pans?

They also took away the pots, the shovels, the snuffers, the basins, the spoons, and all the vessels of brass with which they ministered.

The caldrons also, and the shovels, and the snuffers, and the bowls, and the spoons, and all the vessels of brass wherewith they ministered, took they away.

He made all the vessels of the altar, the pots, the shovels, the basins, the forks, and the fire pans. He made all its vessels of brass.

And he made all the vessels of the altar, the pots, and the shovels, and the basons, and the fleshhooks, and the firepans all the vessels thereof made he of brass.

Huram made the pots, and the shovels, and the basins. So Huram made an end of doing the work that he did for king Solomon in God's house

They roasted the Passover with fire according to the ordinance and the holy offerings boiled they in pots, and in caldrons, and in pans, and carried them quickly to all the children of the people.

And Huram made the pots, and the shovels, and the basons. And Huram finished the work that he was to make for king Solomon for the house of God

And they roasted the passover with fire according to the ordinance but the other holy offerings sod they in pots, and in caldrons, and in pans, and divided them speedily among all the people.

The people went around, gathered it, and ground it in mills, or beat it in mortars, and boiled it in pots, and made cakes of it. Its taste was like the taste of fresh oil.

And the people went about, and gathered it, and ground it in mills, or beat it in a mortar, and baked it in pans, and made cakes of it and the taste of it was as the taste of fresh oil.

In fact, some of you might well know that the barber pole, the red and white stripes, represents the blood bandages of the barber surgeon, and the receptacles on either end represent the pots in which the blood was collected.

Over the rivers and down the highways and along countless jungle paths, the population of East Pakistan continues to hemorrhage into India an endless unorganized flow of refugees with a few tin kettles, cardboard boxes, and ragged clothes piled on their heads, carrying their sick children and their old.