(RESTAURANT AMBIENCE) Our show is brought to you by the Cafe Boeuf with your host, Maurice the maitre'd. Bon soir, Maurice.

TK: No, I won't park your car.

GK: I said, Bon soir. Never mind. I'd like a nice quiet table, Maurice --- in the corner.

TK: The whole restaurant is quiet ---- ever since we started advertising on your show----- (FRENCH MUTTERING)

GK: Here. This table is fine. Thank you. (CHAIR SCRAPE) Wonderful.

TK: A glass of wine for monsieur?

GK: Yes. Of course.

TK: Here. An excellent vin rouge right here. (HE POURS) Notice the richness, the color, the exuberance of the bouquet. And the taste---- (HE SIPS) Ahhhhhhhhh.

GK: Is that an Oregon wine? (TK BIG SPIT REACTION)

TK: (SPUTTERING) What, monsieur? We do not use organs in our wine....what do you mean?

GK: Are you all right?

TK: We make ze wine from grapes, monsieur! Organs!!!

GK: I said, is that an Oregon wine?

TK: Yes, of course it's a foreign wine. It's French, monsieur! Where all wine comes from! France!

GK: You didn't know they make wine in Oregon?

TK: Wine? I thought it was paint thinner.

GK: They make wonderful wines.

TK: They use ze word "wine" on ze bottle?

GK: Yes.

TK: Cooking wines.

GK: No, no, no ---- drinking wine.

TK: Cooking wine. You cook organs in it. Kidneys, livers....

GK: No, no. They make very good Chardonnays in Oregon.

TK: Oregon Chardonnays!!

GK: Yes.

TK: Where in Oregon is the district of Chardonnay? Ehhh? Show me on a map.

GK: They make Pinot Noirs.

TK: Is there a place in Oregon called Pinot Noir?

GK: Merlots. No, there isn't.

TK: Why do they give their wines French names? eh? Why don't they call them Willamettes? Or Clakamas?

GK: Here. Taste this. I brought a bottle with me. (CORKSCREW, GK EFFORT, POP) Here. Tell me this is no good. (POURING) Taste it. Go ahead.

TK: I don't want to taste it.

GK: Taste it.

TK: Why should I taste it?

GK: Taste it.

TK: (SIPS) (SIPS AGAIN, TASTES, THE PATTER OF LIPS) (TAKES A GULP, SWISHES IT IN HIS MOUTH, GARGLES) Zees is a French wine.

GK: Oregon wine.

TK: If zat is an Oregon wine, monsieur, I will shoot myself!

GK: Look.

TK: (GASPS IN DISBELIEF) Give me ze pistol--- (COCKS GUN)

GK: No, Maurice!

TK: Vive la France! (THEY STRUGGLE, GUN DROPS TO FLOOR) Impossible! It is ze end of ze world! I have nothing more to live for! Give me my butcher knife!

GK: Maurice, no! (THEY STRUGGLE, KNIFE DROPS TO FLOOR)

TK: I cannot bear to live in a world in which such a wine comes from Oregon!!! It is as if Andrew Lloyd Webber were to write La Boheme! It is as if John Grisham were to write Anna Karenina!

GK: Maurice, get over it. What are you doing?

TK: Give me that stick of dynamite! (HE STRIKES MATCH, LIGHTS FUSE. THEY STRUGGLE)

GK: Give me that! Give me that! (GK RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, DOOR OPEN, THROWS STICK. DISTANT EXPLOSION)

TK: (SOBBING) I cannot bear it. Ze disgrace. Ze ignominy.

GK: Don't take this so hard, Maurice. What's for dinner tonight?

TK: Sloppy Joes.

GK: Sloppy Joes?

TK: Oui. Sloppy Joes.

GK: When did you start serving sloppy Joes at the Cafe Boeuf?

TK: When they started making a drinkable wine in Oregon.

GK: Maurice, the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor the best wine to men in black berets and thin mustaches.

TK: I am in grief! I cannot bear it! Life is worth living no longer! Farewell, monsieur! I am bringing in ze Rottweiler! (DOOR OPEN, SNARLING VICIOUS DOG LEAPS)

GK: No! No! Down! (HE WRESTLES WITH THE BEAST, FENDING HIM OFF WITH A CHAIR) Back off! Back! Back in the closet! Back! (DOOR SLAM) Maurice---- you have to accept it. Things change. Life moves on. Oregon makes wonderful wines.

TK: SOBBING

GK: He'll get over it. I'll fix him a plate of snails in hot butter. A steak tartare. And serve him an Oregon cabernet with it. He'll get over it.

TK: Farewell, cruel world! I leap to my death! (RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, LEAP THROUGH GLASS WINDOW)

GK: Oh, for crazy. Get over it. C'est la vie. What does it matter where the wine comes from? (DOOR OPENS)

TK: (GROANING) I forgot. We are on the first floor. (HE LIMPS ACROSS THE FLOOR)

GK: Maurice---- come to your senses! Get a grip! (TWO HARD SLAPS ACROSS THE FACE) Shape up.

TK: Merci, monsieur. I needed that.

GK: There is only one way to fight Oregon wine.

TK: Oui, monsieur.

GK: And that is to destroy it.

TK: Oui, monsieur.

GK: One bottle at a time.

TK: Oui, monsieur. (CORKSCREW) After this there will be one less bottle of Oregon Chardonnay to talk about----- (CORK POP).

GK: A message from the Cafe Boeuf.

TK: Look for our new location opening soon in Eugene.

GK: In Portland or Eugene, it's the Cafe Boeuf, the home of elegance, where the elite meet to eat (KNOWING FRENCH LAUGH)---- (PLAYOFF)

© 1998 by Garrison Keillor