ORVILLE: Wilbur, I think I’ve invented a flying machine.
WILBUR: Hot dog! The Wright Brothers do it again!
ORVILLE: Err—yeah. Listen. I think this one’s just going to be an “Orville” invention.
WILBUR: But we’re a team. We’re the Wright Brothers.
ORVILLE: I get that. It’s just that I did this one alone.
WILBUR: You don’t hear me complaining that I invented “Puppy Hooch” alone.
ORVILLE: The beer for dogs?
WILBUR: The light beer for discerning dogs.
ORVILLE: I don’t know I just—
WILBUR: —or socks. I invented socks.
ORVILLE: You did not invent socks.
WILBUR: I invented those blue socks soaked in turpentine.
ORVILLE: Those were my socks.
WILBUR: I was trying to ferment them into a sort of beer for dogs.
ORVILLE: I feel like the airplane is more consequential than the dog beer.
WILBUR: History will be the judge.
ORVILLE: I’m sorry. I already submitted the patent application. Here, take a look.
WILBUR: Impressive. But where’s the ashtray?
ORVILLE: The plane is mostly gasoline and bedsheets.
ORVILLE: No smoking.
WILBUR: Here, let me draw one in.
ORVILLE: No, wait—
WILBUR: —Hot dog! The Wright Brothers do it again!