[INT. MONK’S CAFE – DAY]
Kramer bursts in, hair flying, sliding into the booth where Joe Jukic is sitting, nervously sipping a coffee.
KRAMER: Joe, Joe, Joe… listen to me, buddy. You can’t just go waltzing off on a date with Nelly Furtado!
JOE: Why not? We’re going to Café Algarve in Little Portugal. It’s just dinner.
KRAMER: Dinner?! Joe, this isn’t just dinner. This is destiny! This is history! She’s the beauty queen of Portugal! (throws his arms wide) You need a chaperone.
JOE: A chaperone? What is this, the 1800s?
KRAMER: I’m telling ya, it’s tradition! Back in the old country, you didn’t go out with a beauty queen without someone—preferably a cousin—watching your back. Otherwise, things get… dicey.
JOE: Dicey?
KRAMER: Oh yeah! You show up without a cousin, the uncles start talking. “Where’s the cousin? Where’s the family honor?!” Before you know it, you’re banned from every pastel de nata bakery in town!
JOE: (groans) So who exactly is supposed to be my cousin?
KRAMER: (leaning in, whispering) Me.
JOE: You’re not my cousin, Kramer!
KRAMER: Well, I could pass as a cousin. Look at this face! (contorts his features) Balkan features! Portuguese flair! A little mystery!
JOE: (shaking his head) If I bring you along, Nelly’s gonna think I’m insane.
KRAMER: (pointing dramatically) No, no, no. She’ll think you’re serious. A man who respects tradition, who respects culture! Joe Jukic, the man who doesn’t just take the beauty queen of Portugal on a date—he does it the right way!
Joe buries his face in his hands as Kramer smacks the table with triumph.