P-We gotta get the fuck outta Dodge.
J-(Laughing) Get on 80 West and go, and I'm NOT getting out of the Dodge.
P-Shut up, dude, this ain't funny! the Cops have been called for two things to the same spot,
    about US!!
J-(Still laughing) Not US, you!!

The Diplomat being pushed hard enough to elicit a noise that Javi refers to as "A skeleton masturbating in a galvanized trash can"
 J-Can you move it?
 P-I shot myself, I didn't break my foot playing soccer in the yard, I FUCKING SHOT MYSELF!
 J-(shaking his head) Yes, you did, yes. you. did...
Javi points at Patrick and laughs "With a thirty dollar Jennings .22!! You can't make this shit up!!"


The Police show up to the Radio Shack parking lot, about fifteen minutes after the Diplomat chirped it's tires in a way that sounded more like sneakers on a freshly polished gymnasium floor.

 The woman, from the mid-range SUV, was more than happy to give a description of the assholes that took the handicapped parking spot, although, now that she recalls, the driver did appear to have a painful limp.

While one officer was talking to the mid range SUV family, fresh out of the Dollar Store, the other was in Radio Shack talking to the owner and his clerk.

On Route 80, Javi finally finds a radio station that comes in, not very clearly, but, clear enough to hear that it's Salsa music. Not the first choice of either one, but, something to break the silence.

P-Once we're in PA, I'm going to take a look at my foot. It fucking kills!!
J-So, what happened? I thought you needed a rheostat.
Pat reached over and turned the radio up louder.