I will not have that filthy beast in my house! It belongs in a barnyard!
This is not a farm chicken. Count Bessie is a showbiz chicken! Wait'll you see this! [exits]
[to Dorothy] A showbiz chicken. What she do, play the piano?
[re-enters with a mini-piano] She plays the piano!
[sees Angela at the door] Aunt Angela!
No, Sophia Loren. I stopped using Oil of Olay.
[on Tony] He's the best catch in town! He's got his own hair, his own teeth, and a totally unrestricted driver's license. Hey, at my age, that's like dating Tom Cruise!
Sophia says she has no appetite since she was stabbed in the back.
Oh my God, who stabbed Sophia?!
The chef at Benihana, Rose.
[to Sophia and Angela] Gosh, you two made such a fantastic meal, I can't imagine what you came up with for dessert.
Rose, is this another one of those Scandinavian Viking concoctions?
Yes! It's called Geneuckenfluegen Cake. It's an ancient recipe, but I Americanized it.
So one might say you brought "Geneuckenfluegen" into the '80s?
Yes, but I'm not one to blow my own greteugenfruegen.
Everything I have, you try to steal. May the bags under your eyes grow so large your head falls in 'em!
May your shampoo get mixed up with your Preparation H and shrink your head to the size of a mushroom!!
Dorothy, Blanche, and Sophia sit at the table to eat fried chicken
Girls! Girls, Count Bessie is missing. I went out to the garage to feed 'er and her cage was empty. Where could she be?
They all have chicken in their hands and become motionless, with glazed looks on their faces.
Uhh, Aunt Angela? Where did you get this chicken?
I guess this means no live entertainment with dessert.
Rose, honey, you've got to stop torturing yourself like this! Now Count Bessie is gone !
I know. It's just such a tragedy. Who cooks a musician at the height of her career?
Rose, you've got to put this in perspective. Count Bessie was a chicken . It's not as if Angela had fried up Doc Severinsen!
[enters the kitchen] How are you doing, Rose?
Oh, honey, now listen, you may not think so now, but in a few days, you'll feel better.
No, I won't. Because Mrs. Butell will be back by then. What am I supposed to say? "Welcome home! How was your trip? Oh, by the way..." [holds up Tupperware and starts to cry] "...here's Count Bessie! "
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