Please, Patty, please — you just got to help me. You gotta let me arm wrestle you in public and beat you. Otherwise, I'll be the laughingstock of P.S. 118, forever and ever and ever.
I won't let you beat me at arm wrestling, Harold.
How about thumb wrestling?
I do not think so.
Oh, come on, Patty, you got to do this for me, because we're friends. And if you don't, Sid and Stinky wouldn't have left me alone. They'd keep bugging me, and calling me names, and giving me lipstick, and my life will be over! [sobs loudly]
Harold, get off the ground, and stop crying. It's pathetic.
[stops sobbing] Okay. I'm sorry.
Look, Harold, if you really want me to help you, then I guess I will, but not by letting you win. I'll help you by showing you my techniques, and then if you are lucky, you just might learn a thing or two, and maybe you'll even be able to beat me in the tournament.
Oh, thank you, thank you, Patty, thank you! You're the greatest! You're the best friend a guy ever had!
Please, calm down, Harold.
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