Mrs. Keeney: We're in the Stork Club, 1957. The band begins to play a cha-cha and we see each other across the room. Our eyes lock.
Tim: Argh!
Mrs. Keeney: The band begins to play a dance of passion. Oh, the mating ritual begins.
Tim: Lady, lady, lady. I've got a wife, you know.
Mrs. Keeney: In 1957, you had no wife. Now, let yourself go, Mr. Taylor. Don't be a prisoner of your body.
Tim: Free me, warden. I'm on parole!
Mrs. Keeney: Let's show 'em. Let's show the class those turns. Oh, with lots of speed and lots of flair.
Tim: Oh, spin me, Mr. Taylor! Really spin me!
Mrs. Keeney: [screams] [crashes into piano]
Tim: Call 911.