Diane: Cliff, we don't usually see you in here this early.
Cliff: [congested] Uh, I'm sick, Diane. I must be coming down with something. Thought I'd get some coffee here before I finish my route.
Coach: No, Cliff, a brandy. Let me get you a nice brandy.
Cliff: No, Coach, I hope I'm never that ill. As long as I'm carrying this bag, there's one thing that'll never touch these lips.
Carla: You mean there's something that wants to?
Cliff: Alcohol. I'm on duty, Carla. Just a coffee, please, Coach.
Coach: I can do better than that for you, Cliffie. Will somebody go upstairs to Melville's, please, and get this man a bowl of hot soup?