Age Rating: 10 +
"OUCH, Effie. W'at kinda bleach is you usin' on my hay-id? Git it off. You gone and set me on f'ar. Git me ice 'fore I kill yuh, or me one."
"My Lord, Thelma, evar time yuh come t'my beauty shop yuh complain ‘bout somethin’. Jest give it a second."
"Is it gone, hon?" Effie asked.
"My hay-id? Yuh tell me. I 'bout killed Roscoe New Y'ar's Eve. Now, I'm 'bout t' start killin’ yuh. Th' new y'ar’s gotta git better. It cain’t git worse.”
"Ya gonna need to start livin' a day at a time, Thel. It don't do no good to worry 'bout boys who don't grow up."
"Effie, don't tell Roscoe, but I got me anothrin'."
"Beau, dat's what. I met 'im at the "Hole-in-th'-Wall-Café."
"Thel, ya gonna git t'hurtin' agin if yuh don't watch out."
"Effie, yuh jest worry about my h'ar, and I'll worry 'bout my fellers. Yuh need to understand dat Roscoe turned me into a piece of ice on New Y'ar's Eve, so I went a'lookin' for somebody with a f'ar under 'im."
"And?" Effie asked.
"And I found Leon. Now, I'm on f'ar, too. Effie, we're goin' to th' car race tonite."
"Th' car race? I thought dat's de vur-ree thang yuh didn't like 'bout Roscoe. Remembuh? He talked 'bout racecar drivers all thru New Y'ar's Eve? Yuh screamed. Have ya done forgot?"
"Effie, listen to Thel, here. Yuh touch up my h'ar and I'll touch up my boys."