scene for class

so i was in a screenwriting class once and for it, we had to write a scene where two people meet. so this is that scene. forgive the improper formatting...Final Draft formatting doesn't copy and paste well.
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INT. RESTARAUNT-DAY
JAMES, a late twenty-something, stands in line at a salad bar buffet behind KELLY, who is in her early thirties. Kelly holds up the line by doing nothing.

JAMES
Ahem...

Kelly looks up to overhead speaker.

JAMES (CONT’D)
Ahem...hey, do you think you could...
Nudges Kelly to move forward.

KELLY
What? Oh, yeah, sorry, it’s just this music.

Haphazardly piles food onto plate, while James takes a minimal amount of food.

JAMES
This music? It’s a salad bar, a buffet, for that matter. What can one expect?

KELLY
It’s Billy Ocean.

JAMES
It’s Billy Ocean...and...

KELLY
Well, Billy Ocean simply isn’t salad bar music.

She walks away to get napkins, etc. James stands motionless, intrigued by her statement. Follows her.

JAMES
What qualifies as salad bar music?


Kelly sits, surprised that he follows.

KELLY
That’s a question that has plagued society since the dawn of time. However I do know that “Caribbean Queen” hardly makes me want to eat cauliflower.

James gestures to a chair across from her.

JAMES
May I?

He sits.

But what, if anything, would make you eat cauliflower?

They both stare at cauliflower stalk in her hand and ponder for a moment.

KELLY
Paul Simon, James Taylor, something acoustic. Something that offers a moment of reflection. Something that makes you so very glad that you have this white stalk of goodness before you.

She eats the cauliflower. James stares, amused.

JAMES
Before I call you a lunatic, I should probably ask your name.

KELLY
It’s Kelly. And normally I’m not a lunatic.

JAMES
Well it’s very nice to meet you, Kelly. I’m James. And I don’t think you’re a complete lunatic.

Moment of quiet, both eating.

KELLY
So James, what do you do when you’re not picking up girls at a buffet?

JAMES
I pick up girls at laundromats.

KELLY
Anywhere else I should know about?

JAMES
No, nothing too sinister. I work at a funeral home.

Kelly nearly spits soda out of her mouth.

KELLY
Any on the job romance I should be aware of?

JAMES
You meet some nice girls, but they don’t have much to say. So quiet, those types. So what do you do?

KELLY
I work in a slaughterhouse.

James almost chokes on bread.

KELLY (CONT’D)
Don’t worry, I almost never pick up anyone I meet there.

JAMES
So, would I have seen any of your work?

KELLY
Um, maybe in a supermarket, wrapped in plastic and dripping a bit.

JAMES
So how does one get into that line of work? Do you school for it?

KELLY
Well it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. I don’t do any of the hard-core stuff, I just slap it onto the styrofoam carton. I’m on the tail end of the production line.

JAMES
So you don’t....
(Mimes swinging a bat in the air)

KELLY
No, no, I’m not one of those guys. Man, you wanna see some unchecked aggression? That is the area to look. So, how did you fall into the funeral home business?

JAMES
My dad did it. And his father before him, and so on and so forth. I started out by just wheeling people in on the gurneys, then eventually they let me do the makeup work, now I kind of direct the services.

KELLY
Direct the services...you mean, tell who to carry what and what so-and-so should have on for make-up?

JAMES
Yeah, something like that. Much like yours, not as glamorous as it sounds. Besides, does anyone really end up doing what they dream of? When you were a little girl in a room decorated with pink walls and piles of Barbie dolls around you, did you dream of schucking raw meat?

KELLY
I never cared much for Barbies, although I’ll admit I did have a fondness for pastels.

JAMES
I’m sure you did like pastels, but my question is, did you dream of being a mere cog in a big meat-packing machine?

KELLY
No, but what the hell else does someone do with a liberal arts degree?

JAMES
I’m just trying to show that no one really ever does what they really want.

A knocking noise is heard from under the table.

KELLY
What was that?

JAMES
That? Oh, that’s just my wooden leg.

KELLY
May I ask why you have a wooden leg?

JAMES
Maybe. May I have your phone number?

KELLY
Maybe. Will you show me the wooden leg?

JAMES
I usually save that for the second date, but I suppose I could make an exception.


Kelly jots her number on a napkin, rises to leave.

KELLY
Okay, well, call me then.

JAMES
Maybe if we make it to date number two I’ll show you the mangled stub.

KELLY
I think you just got yourself a second date.

She leaves.
Someone sitting at a table next to James has been eavesdropping and glances down at the leg. James thwacks his kneecap with his spoon.

JAMES
Yeah, the girls really go for it.