PT.17

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R+ In Quebec: Dejeuner.

(The Rammies are seated at an outdoor café in Quebec City.)

Olli (Reading menu): What is it with Quebec and smoked meat? Everywhere we go, it's smoked meat.
Paul (Pouring another shot from the 23 bottles of Jager on the table): -Sounds like a pretty apt description of Richard's lungs to me.
Richard (Smoking): Oh, funny, funny boy- *HACK COUGH KHRRRRRR- SPIT*
Doom (Making disgusted face): Well, there goes my appetite...
Paul: Oh, come on Doom, I hear their oysters are excellent...
(Doom rolls eyes, tosses menu away. )
Till (Drinking straight from bottle of Jager): Just order, already. I want to go fishing!
Flake: Well, I already ordered what I want-poutine.
Olli: What is that-?
Richard & Paul: "You've got a poutine, I've got a dick-ah..."
(Waiter brings Flake's poutine. The other Rammies stare in horror.)
Richard: Oh, mein Gott...
Doom: French fries and gravy-? That's a little-'American' for you, isn't it, Flocka?
Flake (Dipping a fry in gravy): So? Everybody has a guilty pleasure.
Richard: -What's that white globby stuff?
Paul: It looks like-
(Doom claps a hand over Paul's mouth.)
Flake: Cheese curds.
Olli: Scheiss, that will take care of your carbs for the next, oh, three months.
(The waiter brings Till his salad. Till looks at Flake's poutine, then at his salad, then pouts.)
Flake (Noticing Till's longing gaze.): -Would you like a taste, Till-?
Till (Mouth watering): Ummm...I'd better not...
Richard: You're not still on a diet, are you? Oh, come on, Tillchen, you look fine. You can afford a few extra calories.
Doom: And remember, we have England coming up. (to Till) ...Bangers and mash, Tilly...
(Till moans slightly, eyes still on Flake's poutine.)
Paul: -Not to mention those huge English breakfasts...
Richard: -And lots and lots of sweet shops...
(Till is openly drooling.)
Olli: Uh, Flake-? I think you'd better-
(Till lunges for Flake's plate and starts shoveling poutine into his mouth.)
Flake (Glaring at Paul, Richard, and Doom, who are smirking with satisfaction): You guys are just plain evil.
Till (Covered in gravy, gesturing for the waiter): Oi! Garcon! Three more of these!
Richard: Oh come now, Flocka, you like him pleasingly plump, and you know it.
Paul: Ja, the more the cushion, the better the-
(Flake claps a hand over Paul's mouth.)
Till (To waiter): -And put some of that smoked meat on it!

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