Mr. Money: (revs car) Ah... love of my life.
Sandra: Are you referring to me or the car?
Mr. Money: Oh please, honey - what do you think? Now, ah... Cindy...
Sandra: (annoyed) Sandra.
Mr. Money: (under his breath) Yeah righ... (out loud) Yeah, of course! Now, as I see this, we've got two natural choices here. So, um, what do you say? Either I drive, and you can give me some good head while I'm watching the road...
Sandra: (incredulous) What!?
Mr. Money: Well, somebody's gotta watch the road honey. Or, you could drive this baby... (revs car) ...but, ah, only if you're good at handling the stick, of course.
Sandra: But... this is an automatic.
Mr. Money: Um... right.
Sandra: Is that some sort of sick joke?
Mr. Money: (innocently) What?
Sandra: Natural choices, my ass!
Mr. Money: Well, that's a third choice I didn't think about.
Sandra: You son of a- (moves to get out of the car)
Mr. Money: Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy, baby. No sweat. It was only a joke, alright?
Sandra: ...Alright. (gets back in)
Mr. Money: I mean, of course I was joking. I would NEVER let you drive my car.
