I got it, Mama. I didn't see my Prednisone. I put it in, Mama. Well, I didn't see it....

Carla Jean Moss: [the cab is stopped outside the depot. Carla Jean and her mother and the driver are at the trunk struggling over bags] I got it, Mama. Carla Jean's Mother: I didn't see my Prednisone. Carla Jean Moss: I put it in, Mama. Carla Jean's Mother: Well, I didn't see it. Carla Jean Moss: Well, I put it in. That one. You just set there. I'll get tickets and a cart for the bags. Well Dressed Mexican: [as Carla Jean goes to the station a man emerges from a car pulled up behind. He is a well-dressed Mexican of early middle age] Do you need help with the bags, madam? Carla Jean's Mother: Well, thank God there's one gentleman left in West Texas. Yes, thank you. I am old and I am not well. Well Dressed Mexican: Which bus are you taking? Carla Jean's Mother: We're going to El Paso don't ask me why. Discombobulated by a no-account son-in-law. Thank you. You don't often see a Mexican in a suit. Well Dressed Mexican: You go to El Paso? I know it. Where are you staying?