Garrison Keillor: And now, a message from the Partnership of English Majors.
Sue Scott: Oh, Frank. This is so wonderful -- I never went to a steakhouse before.
Tim Russell: Yeah, well. No biggie.
SS: You suppose they have salads here?
TR: Heck yes. Whatever. -- Here, I got you something.
SS: What's this? A little bright blue box wrapped in a white ribbon--
TR: Yeah, the way I see it-- our information-gathering phase is over and it's time to move the relationship into third gear. So I'd like to gift you with this box.
SS: Sorry, you'd like to-what?
TR: Gift you. I'm gifting you here.
SS: Oh. Oh dear-I don't know--
TR: So what do you say, Jessica? Are you in or out?
SS: I like you, Frank...but-- when I hear you use "gift" as a verb--
TR: Whatcha talking about?
SS: Gift is a noun, Frank. It shouldn't be used as a verb.
TR: Oh please. You're not going to be one of those people, are you?
SS: I am one of those people, Frank. I'm an English major-I thought you understood that.
TR: I thought you'd get over that, Jessica.
SS: Frank, being an English major is not something you get over. It's who I am. Language matters to me.
GK: Would you two like to see the dessert menu?
TR: Listen, mister, bug off, we got something going on here.
SS: Please, Frank--
GK: We have an audacious cheesecake tonight that is refulgent with cheese, a shimmering and resplendent dessert with plump, one might almost say Rubensesque, cherries on top.
TR: Hey, did you hear me, creep? Amscray.
SS: Did you say "Rubensesque?"
GK: Yes, of course.
SS: Most people would say "Rubenesque"--
GK: I know, but that would be wrong.
SS: Exactly. It refers to the painter. Peter Paul Rubens.
GK: Of course.
SS: You're the first person I know who has used that word correctly. I want to cry.
GK: Please. Here's a fresh napkin.
SS: For a moment, I thought you might be-- but o no, I'm being silly--
GK: You thought I might be what?
SS: You're a waiter, but somehow I thought you might be a poet--
GK: I have a book of poems coming out next month. It's called "A Small Salad On The Side".
SS: Oh my gosh.
GK: It's my first collection.
SS: I'd give anything to read it!
GK: It's back at my apartment.
SS: Let me get my coat.
TR: Guess I'll take this ring and get out of here.
SS: Goodbye, Frank.
TR: I could've offered you a lot, Jessica. A lot.
SS: Maybe so. But there was no poetry, Frank.
SS: Poetry. (ROMANTIC VIOLIN) I could never be happy in that enormous condo of yours. That expensive furniture. The pool, the Jacuzzi. You forgot something, Frank.
TR: What was that?
SS: A bookshelf. There were no bookshelves. --Come.
GK: I'll get your coat. And here, sir.
TR: The bill. Oh thanks a lot.
GK: You're welcome.
TR: Don't expect a big tip, bozo.
GK: Eighteen percent. It's included.
TR: Curses! (MUTTERS OF RAGE)
GK: A message from the Partnership of English Majors.