La Restaurant

"It's pronounced duck al-or-onge."

"Maybe it's taking so long because I ordered the steak
well-done?"

"Aloronge. Alloronch."

"Maybe I'll ask him. Shall I ask him. Excuse me?"

"Mule-ah-marin-yeah."

"Excuse me? Is it taking so long because of the steak?"

"Pardon Madame?"

"The steak. Is that why we are having to wait?"

"Oh, and can we get some more bread please?"

"One moment Mousier-dame. It's on its way."

"Could we get more bread?"

"Oh hun, look, a cute dog. He's like Misty but without the gut."

"I think we should take the blue line to the Pompidou Museum; the book
says take the blue line."

"You're a stinky mutt aren't you? Probably rabid. A rabid Misty. Oh
hun, lets get a?get off?let's get a?down?off."

"Madame? Omelette Champignons."

"Apparently we can eat on the roof of the museum. 'Spectacular three
hundred and sixty degree views will compliment the excellent, and
generous, portions at the roof-top caf? Pompidou.' The blue line; five
stops."

"Monsieur, bifstek and frites."

"Do you think he has an owner? Do you have an owner? He's got no
collar, have you?"

"It's better than last nights?oh my."

"Even the French can't mess up mushroom omelette, huh?"

"I think we've found ourself a poet, hun. Look over there?don't look
hun. He's scribbling away like a?hun?"

"The steak is good though I think they gave it a blast in the microwave
oven."

"Look at that. Scribble, scribble, scribble. His mussels will get
cold."

"Moola-marry-nare."

"They're called Mussels where I come from."

"Oh he's stopped writing; tired probably. Oh no, my bad, there he goes
like a little mouse borrowing away in to his little book. Doesn't look
French though he is eating mussels."

"If we catch the blue line the book says we can go straight through to
the Champs Elysees. The Chomps Ee-lee-zay. Chomps. Choms. Shoms."

"Our friend the rabid dog wants some omelette don't you?"

"We can take the five right round Paris and back to our hotel 'situated
along Montmartre's charmingly eccentric rue de la?bustling with?"

"?I swear that Walt Whitman over there has not stopped writing in his
book from the moment we sat down."

"Excuse me, could I get some thousand island for the steak?"

"Of course they don't have thousand island, they didn't even have ranch
last night. Pardon me, have you got ranch sauce?"

"I'm sorry Madame we only 'ave?"

"Look, look, he's staring at us?hun?"

"?Mayonna?"

"?Maybe he's a nut, a stalker or something?"

"?Dijon mout?"

"No thanks, we're fine."

"Oh god hun, he is. I think he is writing down our words."

"Oh Nancy, come on."

"Say 'Oh'."

"Ugh, gristle."

"I'm serious. I can see by the way he's writing."

"What?"

"There. A question mark. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. He is. He is. Hun, have a
word with him please. I will not stand?"

"Nancy please. He can't be writing us down; he doesn't understand a
word."

"Alright, stop then. Let's stop talking."

"Uhh?"

"?Stop."

"See."

"Every."

"Word."

"We."

"Say."

"He."

"Writes."

"Down. Teddy, have words."

"I don't know?"

"Teddy."

"Excuse me son."

"He's still writing."

"Excuse me son are you writing us down?

"I said 'excuse me'. Are you listening to me? Stop writing. You have
upset my wife."

"Stand up Teddy, for Christ's sakes."

"That's just about enough, you listen here.

"Hello? My husband is speaking to you!"

"Stop that this minute do you hear? Right, that is it."

"Teddy, stop him!"

"Upstart punk. See how you write with your pen shoved?hey, get off
me."

Screams.

"What are you doing?"

"Ah, oh God!"

Screams

"He's got a gun!"

Screams.

"Help!"

Screams.

Screams.

Screams.