Scene: A fancy restaurant. Miles sits with his old friend, Jack, as they wait for their dates to arrive. Waiters bustle around the room efficiently, dressed in black tie and wearing white aprons.
Jack: If they want to drink Merlot, we’re drinking Merlot.
Miles: If anyone orders Merlot, I’m leaving. I am NOT drinking any fucking Merlot!
A massive broadsword cleaves through the table; its wielder is naked except for fur-lined boots, some kind of leather breachclout, and an apron similar to those worn by the waiters.
Conan: What wrong with Merlot? Conan like Merlot!