Carla: It's George's bet.
George: Harry, let's stop fooling around. Now, I'm going into my private stash. Ten grand.
[Harry puts his foot up on the table and removes a wad of cash from his sock]
Diane: Oh, I like those socks.
Harry: Covered.
George: Three little ladies.
Diane: Four threes?
George: That can't be.
Harry: Seeing is believing, Mole.
Coach: George, why did you make the bet?
George: Because you scratched your nose, you idiot!
Coach: But I told you why I scratched my nose.
Sam: Okay, that does it. Harry, I never wanna see you come through that door again.
Harry: Don't worry, Malone, you won't.
George: You caused me to lose a fortune, you old fool. You're a stupid, blundering moron who deserves to lose his money.