Frankie: Sherpa's home. [sighs] All right. Construction paper, thermos, electrical tape, washer fluid, dog treats, people treats. Picked your medicine, and chicken sub, no pickles. I know, they don't have the seeded bun anymore, so they gave it to you on wheat. I am done. My day is over. Goodbye.
Brick: Uh, I wouldn't take that off just yet. Tiny problem. You brought me pills instead of my usual medicine. Sadly, I cannot swallow pills.
Frankie: Well, sadly, I will not be going back. You're in high school now. I'm not gonna get you a razor and the New York Review of Books and then buy you raspberry-flavored squirty medicine.
Brick: Look, I'm more than flexible. I'd prefer the teddy bear shot glass, but I'm more than willing to accept the plain plastic syringe if it's slightly warmed in the microwave.
Frankie: Sorry. Pills are what we got. If you want your ear infection to get better, you got to take a pill. Remember how scared you were of Scotch tape? And now you can be in the same room with it.
Brick: Wow. Are you seriously telling me that you're unwilling to go back out and get your son the medicine in the form that he requires? [Frankie takes her bra off through her sleeve]