Transcription

[[Trudy addresses a typically hunched-over Fooker.]]
Trudy: So...How did you get such an interesting nickname like "Fooker", hm?

[[Fooker puts his arm conspiratorially around Trudy's shoulders.]]
Foooker: How 'bout you, me, and a bottle o' wine at my place, and I'll show you?

[[Trudy retains her painted-on smile. Fooker beats a hasty retreat while hearing Trudy's threat.]]
Trudy: How about I rip out your kidneys, stuff them with dynamite, and shove them up your--
Fooker: Never mind.