Dot:
Gimme a straight whiskey.
Ship Bartender:
Did ya lose 'im?
Dot:
Lose him? Me? Boy, the only way they get away from me is to jump overboard.
Ship Bartender:
I thought you always went first class. What're you doing with that slug?
Dot:
Ah, the Depression hit me. C'mon, give.
Ship Bartender:
Nix. Wait'll we dock.
Dot:
Give! Twenty Champagne cocktails at two bucks a smash, and about thirty bucks in tips. And don't be holdin' out on me, or I'll switch 'im back to whiskey at half a buck a snort.
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