(clip clop)
(Rusty snorting)
KRAMER: Y’aah!
(clip clop)
(Rusty farts)
MRS. ROSS: (sniffing) What is that?
MR. ROSS: I think it’s the horse.
MRS. ROSS: Oh, God.
KRAMER: Hey, how’s everything? You..you need anything?
MRS. ROSS: This is - this is...horrible.
MR. ROSS: Excuse me,...what do you feed this animal?
KRAMER: Oh, you know, oats and hay. You know, they like that stuff.
MRS. ROSS: I can’t take this. Let me out of this thing!
MR. ROSS: Turn this thing around. We’ve had it. We can’t breathe back here! And hurry it up!
KRAMER: Rusty! Rusty!
GEORGE: (whistling)
(clip clopping beginning in distance and growing discernibly louder)
KRAMER: Whoa!
GEORGE: Wha - what happened? What are you doing back so soon?
MR. ROSS: Ask Rusty.
KRAMER: I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Ross. One never knows how the gastrointestinal workings of the equine are going to function.
MRS. ROSS: Thanks for nothing! Come on, George. Let’s go upstairs.
GEORGE: What the hell happened?
KRAMER: The horse is gassy. Must have been the Beef-A-Reeno.
GEORGE: Beef-A-Reeno? You fed the horse Beef-A-Reeno?!
KRAMER: Well, I overbought!
Drive-by shooting in Amish town.