Rose: You know, Dorothy, I was thinking, how wonderful it is to have a pig living here. This morning I was all snugly warm under the covers and I opened my eyes and there was Baby, fast asleep at the foot of the bed, like a sweet angel.
Dorothy: That is sweet. Rose, how long do you think it'll be before the pig is dead?
Rose: Did Baby do something wrong?
Dorothy: No, no. Not unless you count that when he burps, it smells like four burning tires.