Rose: Well, sometimes people need help making decisions. That's the way it was with Thor, our pet lamb. From the time he was first separated from his mother, he wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't frolic with the other sheep.
Dorothy: You're slipping into verse, Rose. Keep it simple.
Rose: Daddy got the idea of taking this old inner tube, wrapping it in wool and putting it next to Thor's bed at night. We named it Brun Hilda. And believe it or not, it did the trick. Thor felt like he was back with his mother and he began eating and sleeping...
Dorothy & Blanche: And frolicking.
Rose: Yes. But then one day, Thor got a little playful and accidentally bit Brun Hilda. The poor little guy just stood there, watching his mother deflate before his very eyes. He was never the same after that. Oh sure, once in a while he'd "baa" at the back tires of a parked car. But for the most part, he just kind of kept to himself.

Dorothy: Blanche, I'm sorry, but I think I have to stay and talk to Stan. I'm sure you can get somebody.
Blanche: Dorothy, I must confess I have mixed feelings about calling anybody. There's something strangely provocative about this evening. Oh, of course, I would never have a relationship with both twins at the same time. That would be obscene. Unless, of course, it was tastefully done.

Rose: I wish I could, but I'm driving the bookmobile for the Grief Center tonight.
Dorothy: Oh, I thought you do that that during the day?
Rose: I usually do, but I got tied up at work and I didn't have time and now I feel so guilty. There are so many depressed people with nothing to read. Of course, when I'm depressed, I can't read. I knit. Maybe I should drive a knitmobile.
Sophia: Maybe she should drive a nitwitmobile.