Cliff: Pretzels. Fresh pretzels. Get your fresh pretzels here. Delivered to you piping hot from Ma Clavin's kitchen.
Carla: Come on, Norm. You're his friend. You promised you'd tell him to stop bringing that stuff in here.
Norm: All right. I'll take care of it while I still have some teeth left.
Cliff: Hey, incidentally, Normie, I don't mind telling you, you know, how much Ma appreciates the fact that you guys like her pretzels.
Norm: Great, Cliff, listen--
Cliff: She's been down in the dumps these past 40 years. You know, when she heard how you felt about these babies, well, she just broke right down and cried.
Norm: Oh, boy, pretzels.