“Now. Let’s do it now.”
“Jill, honey, we’re not burning the place down.”
“This is the time! I just maxed out the insurance. The restaurant is worth more as a smoldering ruin than it is whole.”
“Sweetie.”
“I’ve got matches and I’ve already doused most of the busboys in propane.”
“Honey.”
“Think of how much cleaner you’ll feel when it all burns.”
“Loveydoodles.”
“And we can leave a guitarist or two in here for a Wicker Man-type deal.”
“Jill, no. We’re not sacrificing any musicians.”
“Fine. Patrons?”
“Better option, but no. I love Terrapin Crossroads. I love what we’ve created here, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, Phil. I love that you and your buddies have someplace to get loaded and jam every night.”
…
“I sensed sarcasm.”
“Nooooo.”
“You’re bored.”
“Nooooo. I love expediting in the kitchen while you play in the bar. Equal levels of fun.”
“Well, you’re an owner, honey. You can have any position you want.”
“It’s a restaurant! All the jobs suck! There’s not one enjoyable task involved in running a restaurant. Either you’re dealing with a drunken public or you’re in a 200 degree kitchen getting sexually harassed in Spanish.”
“Okay. How can we fix this?”
“I want to take up polo.”
“The kind with the horses?”
“Yup.”
“Isn’t that for royalty?”
“You’re rock royalty.”
“Aw, thank you, sweetie.”
“Love my Philly-willy.”
“Love my Jilly-billy. So, yeah, polo. We’ll need to buy a horse, huh?”
“No. We’ll need to buy a dozen. And a support staff for them. And, if we’re honest, we should also move to Palm Beach County or Argentina.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, the only sport with a bigger buy-in is competitive yachting.”
“You ever ridden on a horse before?”
“I’ve seen it done so many times that I’m sure I could do it.”
“Where did this come from?”
“The polo thing?”
“Yeah.”
“I had a dream a while ago. It was the plot of Footloose, but with polo. John Lithgow was the preacher in town and he wouldn’t let the teens play polo. But those kids had polo in their souls! You were in the dream, but you were Lori Singer. Does that make sense?”
“Kinda.”
“That preacher wasn’t an evil man. He was a bad guy, but not evil. He had just misplaced his grief, that’s all. But the kids had to polo, nonetheless. Immovable object meets an unstoppable force on ponies and wearing exceptionally tight trousers. Finally, the teens overcame and they played their first triumphant chukker. Kenny Loggins was there.”
“What’s a chukker?”
“It’s a polo word.”
“Okay. I support you. Let’s do this. Polo it is.”
FWOOMP
“The busboys are on fire.”
“I’m surprised it took this long. I used a ton of propane.”
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