Fred: (Twitches, rocks back-and-forth, twitches) "Harumph. Well, these girls better not come anywhere near me; they all have deadly diseases, I'm sure."

Mort: "Actually, statistically, they are far likelier to have non-deadly venerial disease, which strikes up to one-in-four sexually-active Americans over the age of 18, depending on the type. In any case, you have a greater risk of becoming ill from eating those communal beer nuts than from incidental contact with any of these young women."

Fred: (Spits out beer nuts, twitches) "Thpth! Thew! ... Oh geez, Mort. Can we just get the food and eat it in the car?"

Mort: "Fine, fine. When the food comes, I'll ask for a box."

Featured Dancer Candy Apple: "Hey baby, want a table dance?"

Mort: "No, no, that's alright, you're very lovely, but I'm fine, thank you."

Featured Dancer Candy Apple: "How about you, baby?" (Slides her hand around Fred's chest, leaning on his shoulder) "Want a table dance, handsome?"

Fred: (Blushing, twitching, instinctively uncrossing arms, then stopping himself and keeping them tightly crossed) "No ma'am, I'm just fine, thank you ma'am!"

Featured Dancer Candy Apple: "Baby, you need to uncross these arms and relax!" (Gently tries to pry apart Fred's death grip and sit on his lap)

Fred: (Jerks away) "NO! I mean ... no, no, I'm fine! Go give your, your ... your heebie-skeebies to someone else!"

Featured Dancer Candy Apple: "Screw you Barnes! And for the record, Juan Williams runs circles around you, you predictable partisan hack!" (Stalks off)

Fred: "Harumph."