Miss Sharon Stone : Just think. This time tomorrow, we'll be on a pterodactyl winging our... Oh, Cliff. Cliff Vandercave : Hmm? Miss Sharon Stone : How come there's only one ticket to Rocapulco? Cliff Vandercave : For your protection, darling. I thought I would go on a "business trip," while you stay here to keep up appearances. Then, when we're sure it's safe, I'll send for you. Miss Sharon Stone : Forgive me, Cliff. Looks like you've thought of everything. Wilma Flintstone : Psst. Excuse me! Hello. Dictabird : No, Mumsie, I don't want to go to school. The other boys make fun of me. Wilma Flintstone : Wake up! Dictabird : Oh, Mrs. Flintstone. To what do I owe the honor of this break-in? Wilma Flintstone : I need your help, Mr. Bird. You hear everything that goes on in this office. Dictabird : Hmm-hmm. Wilma Flintstone : You are the only one who can help clear my husband. Dictabird : My, my. What a delicious irony. Thank you for sharing it with me. Now, let me share something with you. Betty Rubble : Oh, now, Wilma, calm down. Maybe I can reason with him. Dictabird : Ow! Cliff Vandercave : There. All set. You know, my only regret is I won't be around when that shoddy new equipment blows up in their big, dumb faces. Oh, well, I'll just have to console myself with all that money. Hey, who's that? Miss Sharon Stone : That's Flintstone's wife. Cliff Vandercave : What would she want with a stinky old dict... Son of a brachiosaurus! Miss Sharon Stone : Well, Cliff. I guess you haven't thought of everything. Cliff Vandercave : Oh, this is far from over.

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