[flashback:]
Blanche: Dorothy, how sweet. Oh, that just gives me a warm, tingly feeling all over. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go slip under the covers and enjoy it. [exits]
Rose: OK, Dorothy, she's gone. You can tell me the truth. You were talking about me, weren't you? That's OK. It'll be our own little secret.
Dorothy: That, and the dent in Blanche's car.
Rose: Got you. [exits]
Sophia: You are such a liar.
Dorothy: What?
Sophia: Neither of them is your best friend. Admit it. I'm your best friend.
Dorothy: You're right. I was talking about you, Ma. You are my best friend. Just like I'm your best friend.
Sophia: Best friend? Please. You aren't even my favorite child. When you were 13, there were neighbor children I liked better. Best friend. How about picking up a tab once in a while, pal of mine? Or letting me open my own social security check? Best friend! Yeah, right.