Sam: Say didn't we used to have a weekly Elizabethan poet night.
Norm: It started getting too rowdy.
Cliff: I remember the night you were charged with practicing iambic pentimeter without a license.
Diane: You know, Sam. If I am to serve both as a waitress and the butt of jokes I think I should make more money.
Carla: Yeah, what does a good butt make in this town?