Dorothy: Oh, Ma, I'm so sorry about everything. I'm sorry I asked you to move that sofa. I'm sorry that you're sick.
I swear I'll never ask you to move furniture again. Oh, God, I'm just so happy you're safe.
Sophia: Speaking of God, I made a little promise that if He got me through this operation alive, I would tell you the truth about how I got this hernia.
Dorothy: You mean, not from lifting up the sofa?
Sophia: Oh, please, it's wicker. A few of us gals thought it would be funny to put Gladys' VW on the lawn while she was having her feet sanded. And that's why I'm on this gurney, Pussycat.
Dorothy: Ma, it's OK. As long as I found you. Rose, push "Morgue."