Rose: I heard a fable when I was a little girl in St. Olaf that might help. Can I tell you?
Dorothy: That's right, Rose. Wait till my defenses are down and take advantage of me.
Rose: Okey-dokey. Once upon a time in the magical land of Flafluevenhaven lived Toonder, the mediocre tiger.
He was called mediocre because there was nothing special about him. He wasn't talented, he wasn't smart, he wasn't rich, he wasn't handsome. He wasn't good at anything.
Dorothy: If he also wore a bad toupee, she could be describing my Stanley.
Rose: Anyway, it made Toonder's wife miserable that her husband was best known for being mediocre.
Blanche: I understand Marilyn Quayle feels the same way.
Rose: So she asked her fairy godmother to grant Toonder the ability to perform incredible feats of magic, and her wish was granted. Toonder the Mediocre became Toonder the Magnificent.
Blanche: I guess he didn't want to change the monograms on his towels, hmm?
Rose: Well, Toonder the tiger spent so much time performing that he didn't have enough time to spend with his wife. Well, she told him that she missed the time they had together when he was just mediocre, so Toonder used his magic only once more, and that was to make his powers disappear.
Blanche: And they lived happily ever after?
Rose: No, actually she got bored and ran off with Wiseblat the weasel. That was Toonder's old business manager. But they lived happily ever after.
Blanche: What happened to Toonder?
Dorothy: Oh, who cares, Blanche? Hey, once you hear "happily ever after," it's over.

Dorothy: Ma, we're going away for the weekend, just the two of us. So pack your bags, we're off to a cabin in the Keys.
Sophia: Wait a minute, Dorothy, you pulled this one on me once before. Remember Shady Pines Retirement Village? She told me we were going to a resort. We pull up to this place that looks like the Bates Motel and two goons in white coats drag me inside. And for the next year and a half, I'm forced to make lanyards against my will.
Dorothy: Ma, you know that's not how it was.
Sophia: You're right. Sometimes they forced me to make moccasins. No thanks. Not again.

Dorothy: I was talking to Edith's daughter after the funeral. She'd flown in from San Francisco. She kept telling me how bad she felt that she hadn't seen her mother in over a year.
Rose: Well, it's hard to stay close to someone when they live clear across the country.
Dorothy: Well, I live in the same house with my mother, yet we spend little quality time together. You know, sometimes we'll be watching TV and I start wondering how many more times I have left like that. And I find myself staring at her, like I'm trying to freeze her face in my memory. Like I never want to forget one single line or wrinkle. Suddenly she'll say, "Why are you staring at me? I've been wanting to pick my nose for the past half hour."