§ 329 The Real Fromage, in Fact
Two of Broadway’s typical products were invited to spend an evening at the Fifth Avenue home of a wealthy patron. The guests knew a great deal about musical shows and about picking winners at the tracks and, when it came to rolling a sucker for his money, they acknowledged no superiors. But in certain other departments of knowledge both of them were just a trifle shy.
Observing that they seemed somewhat self-conscious, their host undertook to make them feel more at home. He made the mistake, though, of picking on literature as a topic. Across the dinner-table he said to one of them:
“How do you like Omar Khayyam?”
“Oh, pretty good,” said the person addressed; “but a bottle of this here red Chianti suits me better.”
On the way home the second Broadwayite took his friend to task for his ignorance.
“Bo,” he said, “when you don’t understand a thing why don’t you keep your mouth shut? Why, you big stiff, this here Omar Khayyam ain’t no wine. It’s a cheese.”