[to Carl]

I had a baby kitty-cat once. It was a little fluffy thing. Bobby gave it to me. Remember, Bobby? [Samia stops angrily in mid-sentence] The little pussy cat you gave me.

Yeah.

It had two little white front paws. You know, I was crazy after her. We left her at some friends house and she got squashed flatter than a tortilla right outside their mobile home.

There. Do you see what I mean? The choice of words juxtaposed with the image of a fluffy kitten. The enchantment of words: "squashed," "flat" et cetera, et cetera.

She was.

Perhaps, but it was just what I was trying to point out.

Don't sit there pointing at her.

I beg your pardon.

I said don't point at her, you creep!

But I was just telling about the—

Where the hell do you get the ass to tell anybody anything about class or who the hell's got it or what she typifies? You shouldn't even be in the same room with her, you pompous celibate!

Carl, this is really too much.

Just calm down now, Bobby.

You're totally full of shit. You're all full of shit!