Don: I mean, I've tried to rhyme, you know. There was a dog who sat on a log. His name was... Rog? That sort of thing. Hold on to her, Dick. She's one of a kind.
Dick: So you like the rhyming, eh? You like the rhyming?
Don: Yeah.
Dick: And what if the rhyming were never to stop? On, on, and on till your head doth pop. Oh, look! A book! A book on schnook! What kind of crook took my schnook nook book? Perchance, methinks, thee, hither, yon, thou. I'm think I'm gonna have a freakin' cow!
Don: You sure seem to hate her. Sounds really tough.
Dick: Hate's a strong word, Don, but not strong enough.