Blanche Devereaux: [angrily] Ooh I hate him, God do I hate him! Not only did he steal my necklace, but he betrayed my trust! Oh please, God, let him get caught, let him go to jail. Let him rot and die in some filthy cell with the rats gnawin' at his eyes!Dorothy Petrillo Zbornak: You know, when you pray, the kitchen almost becomes a chapel.
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