KRAMER: Uhh, Jerry, you got no mustard, huh..
JERRY: It’s on the door.
KRAMER: (examining a yellow squeeze bottle) What, this yellow stuff? No, I said mustard, Jerry. Dijon.Kramer waves away the squeezy option and shuts the fridge.
KRAMER: Ah, ‘s no good.
Kramer goes back to his sandwich, puts the second slice of bread on, and takes a bite. It doesn’t meet with his approval. He spits out the mouthful he’s taken onto the plate, and dumps the rest of the sandwich next to it.
KRAMER: No. That’s bush league.
Kramer heads toward the door.
JERRY: Hey, hey. Wha… wait… what, you’re gonna leave it there?
That’s like half a pound of turkey!
KRAMER: No, no, I can’t eat that. You can’t eat a sandwich without Dijon.
JERRY: (sarcasm) Yeah, you’re right. I really should keep more of your favourites on hand.
KRAMER: Hey, hey, hey. I’m getting a vibe here. What, are you unhappy with our arrangement?
JERRY: What arrangement?
KRAMER: Well, I was under the impression that I could take anything I wanted from your fridge, and you could take whatever you want from mine.
JERRY: (sarcasm) Yeah, well, lemme know when you get something in there and I will.
(via The Seven)