Frasier1993

Carrie:
Excuse me, Dr. Crane?

Dr. Frasier Crane:
Hi, Carrie.

Carrie:
Hi. I have your pants.

Bob 'Bulldog' Briscoe:
Whoa, doc! [honks horn] Where'd you leave them?

Dr. Frasier Crane:
They're new, Bulldog. Some of the finer department stores deliver garments to their busier customers.

Carrie:
Actually, we don't. I just thought it would be nice to see you again.

Bob 'Bulldog' Briscoe:
Excuse me. You look very familiar. Didn't I let you pour a flaming tequila shooter down my throat at Sloppy Nick's during ah, last year's Indy 500?

Carrie:
Ahhh, no.

Bob 'Bulldog' Briscoe:
Well, what are you doing next Memorial Day?

Dr. Frasier Crane:
Bulldog, as certain as I am that any young lady in the world would love to set your face on fire, Carrie, I believe, is here to see me.

Bob 'Bulldog' Briscoe:
Okay. Hey, you can't blame a dog for trying. Just on the off chance it might make a difference, I drive a '94 Camaro. [He leaves]

Carrie:
Is he gay? [Frasier looks at her, surprised] I've been studying about this in school, and it seems like he's really overcompensating.

Dr. Frasier Crane:
Yes, well, I'm not sure. But I certainly look forward to running that theory by him.