I just rolled out five million dollars' worth of Pop-Tarts.

[phone ringing]

You better have some numbers for me. Spit it out!

[box ripping open]

You taste first.

People try to poison Mr. Khrushchev.

Try it, Ludwin.

But this has been out of our sight since customs.

Eat it.

[suspenseful music playing]

[crunching]

Mmm.

[speaking gibberish in Russian accent]

Is deal.

Terrific. When can we expect our first sugar shipment?

[speaking gibberish in Russian accent]

He says it all depends on whether you make the sex with him tonight.

Wow.

- Ma'am. - Mm-hmm.

- We really need that sugar. - You wanna do it?