*
The following is the transcript of a brief conversation, edited to eliminate digressions, between RubberCrutch and Rudy, the latter of whom having borrowed a shovel, had now returned it and was slumped against Big Rock Head's Mazda. His flesh was the color of window putty, but then again it is always that color. Big Rock Head and a neighbor who Rudy calls "Schmuck-meat" are bystanders and catalysts: RC: Are you OK, Rudy?
Rudy: No.
RC (stoically, after a beat): You're not?
Rudy (irritably): Yeah, I'm OK! I always breathe like this 'cuz I have congestive heart failure!
[Editor's note: updated for narrative clarity.]
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