Carla: Turk! You know I hate that damn dog.
Janitor: No, it's not bald, black doctor. It's haired, half-white, half-Inuit janitor. And this is the real Rowdy.
Carla: Excuse me?!
Janitor: You recall that a couple of years ago you lost him? You were panicked that your husband was gonna find out, so I sold my entire stuffed squirrel army, in exchange for Steven, an exact replica. What you don't know is that I retraced your steps that day, and I found Rowdy. Now I think, if your husband knew that he'd been loving a fake dead dog all this time, he'd be very unhappy.
Carla: You're a crazy person.
Janitor: Am I?! Or am I a brilliant mastermind who's waited two long years until he needed something from you?! And now that day has come. Here's what I want. I want your baby. We already talked about that. I want you to tell that new borderline anorexic nurse to eat a sandwich. And then to go salsa dancing with me. Also, I want you to teach me the salsa dance. I want a pound of frankincense, mostly just to see what it is. And lastly, I'm in a little bit of a tiff with the main barista, down at CoffeeBucks, he's not above poisoning me, so I'm gonna need you to be my official beverage tester, yes?
Carla: I'm just gonna confess everything to Turk. Hmm.
Janitor: [growls] No, easy boy. We'll get her.