(Scene opens with Mort Goldman and Max Weinstein walking out of the synagogue)

Mort: (concerned) Max, I'm telling you, I'm drowning. The pharmacy's bleeding money.

Max: (calmly) Ah, Mort, Mort, Mort. Your margins are fine. You just need to adjust your inventory.

Mort: (frustrated) Adjust? I've adjusted! I've cut back on everything except the essentials.

Max: (skeptical) Essentials? Mort, you still carry Geritol?

Mort: (defensive) Hey, seniors need their supplements!

Max: (dryly) And they need them at 300% markup?

Mort: (sheepishly) Okay, okay. Maybe I'll reevaluate.

Max: (serious) Mort, listen. You need to modernize. Get online, offer discounts...

Mort: (interrupting) Online? Discounts? Max, I'm a pharmacist, not Amazon!

Max: (firmly) Mort, trust me. This will help.

Mort: (resigned) Fine. Do what you need to do.

Max: (reassuringly) Don't worry, Mort. We'll get you back in the black.

(As they continue walking)

Mort: (muttering) Assuming the Goldmans don't spend it all on mahjong tournaments.

Max: (laughing) Ah, Muriel's still got a mean bingo arm, huh?

Mort: (laughing) You have no idea.

(Scene ends)