Mary: Dick, you will not have a fistfight with my mother!
Dick: It's okay, Mary. I'll use the open hand. Come on. Come on, Martha. Get out here.
Mary: Wait a minute!
Martha Albright: Oh, this is ridiculous! I'm leaving.
Dick: I'm telling you, Mary, it's the only way to settle this.
Martha Albright: You pissant! [kicks Dick and trips] Oh, my hip!
Dick: Waiter, we'll have an ambulance for the lady, and I still haven't gotten my salad.