young man, if you're through flirting, i'd like some service.
oh, of course. mrs. flintstein.
well, if i get some service, i'll be out of it, won't i? mrs. slate steps to the counter. meanwhile, the staff begin using a refrigerator dolly to bring out giant ribs, steaks and sausages which they pile up in front of wilma.
i want a nice fresh, juicy chickensaurus, morris. and not one you've had laying around on the shelf. i mean fresh.
i don't care if you're busy. what i care about is my adorable little grand nephew. he's staying with me for the summer and i intend to make his favorite dish.  southern fried chickensaurus! now i want a fresh chickensaurus and i want it now!
morris, while you're at it, i'd like it plucked --
my car -- !
not at all. i'm used to being driven around. and she's sashaying up the path. betty and wilma burn, then follow her.
thank you, marie. i ordered the hors d'oeuvres for the junior talent show. they were out of ceolanth caviar so i got mastodon brie instead. oh, ah, these are my, uh, friends, wilma flintstein --
-- oh, it used to be flintstein -- ? and this is ah, becky.  betty!
them? oh, marie, really, you don't understand --
i'll tell you what's wrong! this 'act' is an absolute disgrace! this is supposed to be a talent show! and a pedestrian animal act like this belongs in a circus!
why, how dare you! mrs. flintstein, i'll have you know that my little poindexter has been trained by the finest tutors! poindexter! show them! encore!
ah.  poindexter.  that's enough .  poindexter?
do you see that, jerry? do you see how my great-nephew is behaving at this moment of crisis?
dear, don't you think a little more than that is in order?
i am not being hysterical, i am being fair -- now the flintsteins and rabbles saved all of our lives, not to mention your reputation.