[Roberta Sparrow finds her mailbox empty and walk back to her house, only to turn around halfway]
Sean Smith: Oh, wait, wait, wait. She goes - She's going back to the box. We may still have mail.
Ronald Fisher: Mail, mail, mail.
Sean Smith: Here it is. And?
Ronald Fisher: This could be it. Oh! No dice, Grandma.
Sean Smith: No, sorry. Sorry.
Ronald Fisher: Someone ought to write that bitch.