FAT MAN
(FRENCH ACCENT.)

I yam zee zpezial asistaunt too zee Grand Chef. I yam zee Plate Food Artist! Whan youuuuuuu make zee messs out of zee masterpiece food on zee plate, I, Marcel of St. Tropez, un-messes zee mess, yucky, to make ittt again a masterpiece! Exsilllant. So, monsieur!


MAN

Well, that's unusual.


WOMAN

Yeah. What the hell!

(THE MAN AND WOMAN NOTE THEIR FOOD
     APPREHENSIVELY. BEFORE THE NEXT BITE,
      THEY LOOK AT MARCEL WHO VERY OBVIOUSLY
       TENSES UP, TAKES A DEEP BREATH, GETTING
      SET TO CREATE UPON THE DOOMED WORKS OF
        ART. THE MAN STABS WITH HIS FORK A PIECE
        OF FISH, DRAGS IT INTO THE SAUCE, HEAVES
      THE RAGGED GOB INTO HIS MOUTH - MARCEL
     IN AN ARTISTIC FRENZY ATTACKS, MOVING
      DEFT STROKES, RE-SCULPTING THE MESS ON
         THE PLATE, THEN STEPS BACK. THE MAN CHEWS
        HIS MOUTHFUL WITHOUT PLEASURE. THE WOMAN
          HOLDS UP HER KNIFE. MARCEL TENSES WITH HIS
       BRUSH AND FORK. TENTATIVELY, SHE GLIDES
          THE KNIFE DOWN TO THE PLATE. MARCEL ALMOST
          LUNGES BUT STOPS AS SHE HASN'T TOUCHED THE
         FOOD. NOW VERY CAREFULLY SHE CUTS A LITTLE
PIECE.)

WOMAN
(TO MARCEL.)

Just a tinnny piece. I'm not moving anything.

(SHE LIFTS UP THE MORSEL. MARCEL FALLS IN.)

Hey - gettt Away - ! Idiot!

(FINISHED, HE STEPS BACK.)

I Told you! I wasn't destroying your friggin' food art!


MARCEL

M'mselle, wat do youuuuu knew abot diss Art, eh? You are juss zee Eater - a Big Mouth wit Teets - Hmmmph!


WOMAN

Well!

(GIVES HIM THE FINGER.)


MAN

The food isn't bad.


(THE MAN DRINKS HIS WINE. MARCEL GRABS
     THE EMPTY GLASS OUT OF HIS HAND, POLISHES
     IT WITH A TOWEL, ADMIRES IT, SETS IT DOWN
IN JUST THE RIGHT SPOT ON THE TABLE,
      REFILLS IT JUST RIGHT, THEN PICKS A FLOWER
    OUT OF THE ELEGANT VASE ON THE TABLE AND
  SETS IT ACROSS THE MOUTH OF THE GLASS.)


MARCEL

Ahhh. Perfectt!


(THE MAN LOOKS AT THE FLOWER IN DISGUST,
  HURLS IT AWAY, DOWNS THE WINE. THE WOMAN
   GRABS THE WINE BOTTLE, FILLS HER GLASS TO
   THE BRIM, AND SWIGS IT, HOLDING ON TO THE
BOTTLE. MARCEL GRIMACES IN FRUSTRATION
WHEN SHE TIGHTLY GRIPS HER GLASS.)


MAN

Yeah! Yeah! Okay, wise guy - !


(HE THOROUGHLY MIXES UP THE FOOD ON THE
     TABLE, DOUSES SALT AND PEPPER OVER IT ALL,
  SNATCHES A FLOWER FROM THE VASE, SHREDS
IT ON THE FOOD, THEN SMASHES HIS FACE
INTO THE FOOD, EATING AND SNORTING.)


MARCEL
(HORRIFIED.)

AaaaaaaH!


(THE WOMAN, INSPIRED, GRABS HER PLATE
AND POURS THE FOOD OVER HER HEAD.
MARCEL GOES INTO SHOCK.)


MAN

Let's get out of here!

(THEY GET UP. SHE GETS AN IDEA, PICKS A
FERN LEAF OUT OF THE VASE, OPENS HER
  MOUTH, AND TICKLES HER THROAT WITH IT.
  SHE GROANS AS IF ABOUT TO VOMIT, GRABS
 A PLATE, TURNS AWAY FROM THE AUDIENCE
   WHICH HEARS THE SOUNDS OF HER VOMITING.
   SHE PRESSES THE VOMIT-HEAPED PLATE INTO
     MARCEL'S HANDS. MARCEL GOES INTO ULTIMATE
SHOCK.)

WOMAN

I enjoyed that!

MAN
(TO MARCEL.)

Bon apetite!

(The MAN and WOMAN exit.)

              FADE OUT: