“What are you selling anyway?” says Homer.
“I’m not selling anything but plain old-fashioned Americanism,” says Mollett
“Some Americanism!” says Homer, following Mollett to the cashier’s counter. “So we’re all a bunch of suckers? So we should’ve been on the side of the Japs and the Nazis?”
“Again I say, just look at the facts,” says Mollett, tapping his newspaper again.
“I’ve seen facts,” says Homer. “I’ve seen a ship go down, and four hundred of my shipmates went with it. Were those guys suckers?”
“That’s the unpleasant truth,” explains Mollett, “and the sooner we get wise to it…”
Homer pulls Mollett’s lapel flag pin off his suit coat.
“Ooh, if I only had my hands!” says Homer, grappling with Mollett.
“You put those down!” shouts Mollett, pushing Homer away.
“Take your hands off him!” says Fred, leaping over the counter. He punces Mollett into a perfume display.
Clarence Merkel, Fred’s boss, pushes through the crowd.
“May I get through, please?” says Merkel. He turns to a saleswoman. “Go get the druggist.”
“Yes, sir,” says the sales woman.
“Make way, please,” says the personnel manager, Thorpe. “What happened?” he asks Merkel.
“It was Fred Derry,” replies Merkel. “He hit him.”
“Bring some aromatic spirits,” orders Thorpe.