CLARA: Hm, let's see... nae…

ARLEN: Then why ain't you working?

CLARA: Because a'm an evil network executive, Arlen. It's the writers' business to work. All a' do is butcher their scripts afterwards.

ARLEN: Oh, I see we're playing with matches today. Or are you just going to quote my rants until you mesmerize me with the sound of my own words?

CLARA: Well, they're such bonnie words, Arlen. "A'Have No Throat And A'Must Scream…" there's such puissance there.

ARLEN: (still clowning) Heh. That was a brilliant title, wasn't it?

CLARA: "A'Have No Throat... And I! Must! Scrrream!"

ARLEN: …I was in fine form with that one... HEY! YOU TRICKED ME!

CLARA: Hee hee hee.

ARLEN: All right, jezebel. You rest up, you get well, and you milk this damn cancer for all it's worth. Picture this headline: BEDRIDDEN WIDOW STRUDENBERRY VOWS TO GIVE "STARTEC" A BRAIN. Reporters gobble this stuff up like M&Ms in a fat farm.

CLARA: (pauses) Ye should give up on me, Arlen. A'am part of the system that did what was done to "Suburb on the Edge of Eternity."

ARLEN: (serious) Hey. You listen to me. I put my soul into that script…

CLARA: A'know…

ARLEN: And your husband lied, and it got butchered, and he lost my respect. All true. But. BUT. One man's vision... or one woman's... is still far superior to what the Hollywood crap machine squats out. And now you have a chance to push your vision, and smash the engine. After you rest up.

CLARA: (sighing) Sure thing, Arlen. An' after a' buy out Rich Burman, we can dance the strathspey atop the Chrysler Building. Stay away from heart surgery till then, aye?

ARLEN: Sure thing! I'll just cut back on the bacon.