Dorothy: Maybe there is something I can say. And I want to apologize for this story before I begin. Have you ever heard of a little town called St. Olaf?
Fred: No.
Dorothy: Perfect. Now, as it was told to me - and I have to admit that I wasn't listening that closely - there was this farmer named Nils Nibelung, and he had a pig named Brunhilde, and she won all the blue ribbons at all the county fairs. Well, Nils also had a daughter named Fricka, and she won red ribbons - usually as runner-up to the pig.
Fred: Does this story have a point?
Dorothy: You asked that at just the right time. Anyway, one April, Nils decided to breed Brunhilde - that's the pig, not the daughter - and he chose April because that's when pigs are at their most beautiful and desirable. Unfortunately, so was Fricka. So while Brunhilde and the pig were doing their thing, Fricka and the local pig breeder were doing theirs. God, I hope I got the names right. Anyway, when Nils heard about it, he banished Fricka from his house and his life forever.
Fred: So?
Dorothy: So after a while he lost interest in the pig's company and he ate her. And he died St. Olaf's loneliest man.
Fred: Is that the end of the story?
Dorothy: God, I hope so.

Rose: Maybe we should sign Mary up for some natural childbirth classes.
Dorothy: That's not a bad idea. I wish I'd known about them when I was pregnant. I didn't know what to do, except scream at Stan never to touch me again and call him every name in the book.
Rose: Rough labor?
Dorothy: Rough conception.

Dorothy: Where are you gonna go?
Blanche: I'll be staying with my friend Janet. She said I could spend the night there anytime. Or was it her husband Ed who said that?