Carla: I just don't understand. Why wouldn't you kiss him?
Dr. Cox: [singsong] Stay out of it, Carla.
Mrs. Wilk: Stay out of what?
Carla: Dr. Cox won't kiss his son.
Mrs. Wilk: What is wrong with you?
Dr. Cox: Ladies, hate to disappoint, but my quota for women who bug the living bejesus out of me has been met for the next billion years.