Carla: Anyway, I got it. You are looking at the last ounce of black cardamom on the Eastern seaboard.
Norm: Ooh. Nice. Sammy, let's see that stuff, huh?
Alan: Sammy, you really think that stuff is going help us win the contest?
Sam: Are you kidding me? Wait until you see what this does to the taste of a Bloody Mary. Whoo, boy! This is pretty pungent stuff, huh?
[As Woody brings an empty glass back to the bar, he sneezes as he stands over the black cardamom, spending a plume of it everywhere.]
Woody: Oh, my God! My allergy. Did someone bring some black cardamom in here?
Carla: Woody! It's all gone!
Sam: Great. There goes the contest.
Woody: Well, big deal. In about 20 minutes, I'm going to swell up like a blowfish.
Carla: Well, what what are we supposed to do now?
Woody: Usually, I pack my face in ice.