There is a knock at the door. Jerry answers it. Outside are three
Hispanic-looking guys.
GUILLERMO: Jerry Seinfeld please.
JERRY: Ah, you must be Kramer's guys. (indicating) Come on in. You got the
cigars?
The guys enter.
GUILLERMO: What cigars?
JERRY: Kramer said I was supposed to bring him back some Cubans.
GUILLERMO: (indicating the threesome) We are the Cubans.
Jerry stares, stunned.
[Jerry's Apartment/Del Boca Vista]
Kramer stands, shirtless, in Jerry's kitchen. There's a pot on the stove, and
Kramer's chopping vegetables on a board. The phone rings and Kramer answers.
KRAMER: Yeah, hello, Jerry's place.
In the Seinfelds' condo, the three guys are asleep on the fold-out couch and
a chair, while an upset Jerry rants into the phone.
JERRY: (animated) They're real Cubans?! They're human beings, from Cuba?!
KRAMER: I said Cubans. What'd you think I meant?
JERRY: Cigars!
KRAMER: Jerry, Cuban cigars are illegal in this country. That's why I got
these guys.
JERRY: (incredulous) You're making your own cigars now?
KRAMER: Yeah, yeah. I got investors all lined up.
Behind Jerry, Morty wanders over to the kitchen counter.
JERRY: (to Kramer) Hold on a second. (to Morty) Hiya dad.
Morty sorts through some pill bottles, before picking one out.
MORTY: (without looking up) Who are they?
JERRY: They're Cuban cigar rollers.
MORTY: (walking back out of the room) Don't tell your mother.
Something catches Jerry's ear on the phone.
JERRY: What is that bubbling sound? Are you making your tomato sauce?
KRAMER: Hot and spicy.
JERRY: (accusing) You're not wearing a shirt, are you?
KRAMER: Yes I am.
JERRY: What colour is it?
Kramer looks down at his bare torso, and can't think.
KRAMER: Damn!
Kramer hangs up the phone.