The Mayor: (Tom is unconscious in a dumpster) Thomas! Tom-boy! Tom! Tom, are you okay? Tom Peters: Oh, wow... The Mayor: It's okay... I'm gonna hold up your head for you. Tom Peters: ...think I hit my head... wh... where am I? What time is it? The Mayor: Well... I've been keeping you in this dumpster for weeks now. Found this vest on a hobo and put it on you to keep you warm, 'cause you've been way too tender to move. Tom Peters: Oh. Okay. What's that smell? The Mayor: Tom, what you're probably smelling is the cat food. I've been coming by every night to feed you, and since you're unconscious, I would take a dollop of the wet cat food and stick it in your mouth and then move your jaw up and down like a chewing motion. (Tom gags) The Mayor: But in that process, some of the cat food fell out onto your lips and your face and it hardened a little bit in your hair and on your shirt. Tom Peters: Okay. Right. The Mayor: C'mon now, don't worry. I'll carry you over. Tom Peters: I think I have B.M. in my pants.