I'm imagining a completely fictional scene.
Setting: a seedy bar, lots of smoke. Dean sits at the bar nursing a beer. A large man in a fedora comes into the bar and sits beside him.
The man: Hey, Dean.
Dean: Evening, Rocky.
Rocky: We's got some business to transact, yous and I.
Dean: I know. I need to talk to you about that.
Rocky: Talks cheap. Yous owe me three large on the Super Bowl. Let's sees some green.
Dean: Well, you see, I don't have it… the recession, you know… and my syndicate says…
(At the mention of the word syndicate Rocky rises and looms over Dean menacingly.)
Rocky: I's don't like that word.
Dean: Sorry! Sorry! I mean the people who syndicate me. (Rocky backs away, only slightly less menacingly.)
Rocky: Watch what yous saying. Now where's my money.
Dean: That's the thing. I ... don't have it.
Rocky: That's gonna be tough on you. (He doubles up his fists.)
Dean: No, wait. Surely there's some way we can work this out … you know … like last time.
Rocky: You mean you can accommodate me.
Dean: That's right. Whatever you want.
Rocky (thinking): OK … but this time I wants Yankee Pot Roast, and I wants it in there five times.
Dean: Five times! That's crazy.
Rocky: I says five times! (Slamming his fist on the bar.)
Dean: OK! OK! Ease up. I don't know how I'll do it, but Yankee Pot Roast it is.
Rocky: Five times!
Dean: Yeah! Yeah! Five times.
