Blanche: Dorothy, shall I get Angela's luggage?
Dorothy: She doesn't have any luggage.
Angela: No, I never travel with luggage. Ever since the time I found a dead man in my suitcase.
Blanche: You found a dead man in your suitcase?
Angela: Right. Picture it. New York City. 1956. I was a young widow returning to Sicily. There I was on the boat alone, watching Lady Liberty grow smaller in the distance. When suddenly I heard a voice from the vicinity of my knees. I looked down. There was a midget. It turns out that his name was Peewee Bonbunzi, and he was fleeing from the Mob. For the next few days, we ate together, laughed together, and went for short walks in circles. And then, one day, suddenly Peewee disappeared. Well, we docked in Sicily and I was going through customs. And I noticed a strange odor coming from my suitcase. I thought it was the veal shank that I was bringing over for Mother's Day. But when the customs man opened the suitcase, there was Peewee. Someone had stuffed him in my suitcase between the veal shank and my beaver coat. Well, the Mob had gotten Peewee after all.
Blanche: Oh, God, you must have been heartbroken.
Angela: I was absolutely devastated. I mean, first I had to burn the suitcase and then the beaver coat. And the veal shank never did taste right.
Dorothy: Oh, Aunt Angela, you made that up.
Angela: Hey, I'm 80. As long as I keep talking, I know my heart is still beating.
Blanche: Angela, may I offer you something to eat?
Angela: As long as it isn't veal. Why it's not because of Peewee. I had some on the plane.