BIRD: So, whaddya think of that, Buff?
BUFFALO: Great. Er, what place were we last week?
BIRD: Dude, we're a new entry!
BIRD: Must be doing something right.
BUFFALO: Must be.
BIRD: Seen Sparky lately?
BUFFALO: Sparky has just aroused himself and slunk out the door, presumably on his way to The Larry's workhouse. Hmmm, wonder if Sparky's old job is still available? I can see myself now, in the blood smeared apron, a totally gay paper hat on my melon. A zaftig matron approaches the counter, eyeing me warily, clutching her purse like grim Death, lest I leap over the chest-high counter to snatch it away from her. Sensing a sale, I spring into action... "We have some lovely Vienna Boy's Choir sausage this morning, madam. Would you like to try a wee sample? Would you prefer it slathered with mayonaisse or dipped in hot mustard? What's that you say? Two pounds of ground gopher guts? Coming right up, madam. Could I interest you in some lovely Upchuck Steak this morning?
BIRD: Everyone a winner. That oughtta yank us up the charts a few places.
BUFFALO: I aim to please.
BIRD: Write the cheque out, Momma!
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!