Tracey: Hello. [aggravated tone]
Jack: Hey, Trace. What’cha doing, babe?
Tracey: I’m in Wal-Mart running errands. I swear, the people who work and shop here just came from either a rodeo or a crack house. I need to take a bath.
Jack: What are you doing shopping at Wal-Mart anyway? They’re a huge contributor to the trade deficit with China. That place is the Fourth Reich—
Tracey: Ow!
Jack: What? What happened?
Tracey: Ugggh. Nothing!
Jack: Babe, what the fuck happened? What’s going on?
Tracey: Some [lowers voice] big fat bitch [raises voice to normal volume] just ran over my foot with her cart and didn't even apologize. She’s yelling at her five kids in some other language.
Jack: French?
Tracey: What?
Jack: Was it French?
(Awkward Silence)
Jack: The language she was speaking….was it French?
Tracey: Um, no, babe. I’m pretty sure it was Spanish.
Jack: You want me to come over there?
Tracey: And do what?
Jack: I don’t know. Good question.
Tracey: Okay, let me go.
