Jake La Motta: Is it done? Irma: No, it's not done. Jake La Motta: Don't overcook it. You overcook it, it's no good. It defeats its own purpose. [Irma gives Jake a stern but nasty look] Jake La Motta: What are you doin'? I just said don't overcook it. You're overcookin' it, bring it over. Irma: You want your steak? Jake La Motta: Bring it over. Bring it over! It's like a piece of charcoal! Bring it over here! Irma: You want your steak? Jake La Motta: YEAH, RIGHT NOW! [Irma stabs the steak, exits the stove and slams the steak on his plate. She hastily pours carrots on the plate] Irma: Okay. There's your stupid steak. Can't wait for it to be done? Jake La Motta: No, I can't wait. Irma: Good! Okay? Happy? Happy? Jake La Motta: That's all I want. That's all I want! Irma: That's... there! No, more! There! [Jake routinely flips the table, spilling the contents all over the floor] Jake La Motta: Bodder me abott a steak? Huh? Irma: That's GREAT! Jake La Motta: YOU BODDA ME ABOTT A STEAK? Irma: YEAH!