TOM BROKAW and JOSH GROBAN sit across the table from each other in a booth at a diner.  Tom Brokaw is eating a BLT with a bowl of tomato soup, while Josh Groban snacks on a plate of french fries with a side of ranch dressing.

 

GROBAN                                                                                                                         

Are you going to eat that pickle?

 

BROKAW                                                                                                                                                    

I was going to but…

 

JOSH GROBAN cuts him off.

 

GROBAN

No, I was just asking ’cause I thought you weren’t going to eat it.  Go ahead and eat it.

 

TOM BROKAW grabs a knife and starts cutting the pickle.

 

BROKAW

No, no, no, at least have half of it.  I’m starting to get full anyway.

 

GROBAN

No, I don’t really want it.  I just thought you weren’t going to eat it.  Please, I don’t want it.

 

This irritates TOM BROKAW.  TOM BROKAW picks up his plate and slides half of the pickle onto JOSH GROBAN’s plate.  In the process of doing this he loses the grip of his fork, and it falls and loudly clatters as it hits JOSH GROBAN’s plate.

 

BROKAW

Why don’t you just eat the damned pickle? (He stands up, reaches for his wallet, and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill.)  Here, I’ve got to get going.

 

GROBAN

Hang on, I’ve got change.

 

BROKAW

No, don’t bother, this one’s on me.  I’ll talk to you later.

 

TOM BROKAW puts on the coat and hat that were hanging on the hook next to their booth.  He does not look back at JOSH GROBAN, but he mumbles a cordial “goodbye” to the woman at the counter as he leaves.