(The scene: The workshop behind Cafe Serra, a space rich with the scent of cedar, shellac, and existential despair. JCJ is planing a long oak board. RICK CARVALHO is sanding a live-edge slab. OWEN WILSON is “helping” by holding a tape measure backwards.)
OWEN: Wow. Look at all this wood. It’s a regular lumber-jack convention in here. You could even say it’s… tree-mendous.
(JCJ’s plane glides down the oak with a sound like a long, suffering sigh.)
RICK: You know, Owen, this reminds me of Mr. Ruloff’s shop class at Gladstone Secondary. The man was a legend. He could see a warped board and tell you its entire life story.
JCJ: (Pausing, a rare, almost-smile touching his lips) He once looked at a two-by-four I’d just planed and said, “Jukic, that’s not a board, it’s a Pringle. Start over.” Taught me more about humility than woodworking.
OWEN: Wow. So he was the root of all your knowledge? The seed from which your talents grew? The… sap-ling’s mentor?
JCJ: (The almost-smile vanishes) I’m going to need a lot more shellac. For my ears.
RICK: Mr. Ruloff had a saying for everything. “Measure twice, cut once.” “A sharp tool is a safe tool.” “If you can’t tie a knot, tie a lot.”
OWEN: Deep. So he was really branching out with his wisdom. I’ll bet he was stumped by you guys at first. Just a couple of knot-headed kids.
JCJ: (To Rick) Do you remember when he caught us trying to shellac that frog?
RICK: (Laughing) He didn’t even get mad! He just said, “Boys, the finish is meant to enhance the grain, not the amphibian. And that frog has places to be.”
OWEN: So you gave the frog a shellac-ing? Did it give him a nice gloss? A real sticky situation, huh? Wow.
JCJ: He was trying to teach us about the purpose of materials. That shellac isn’t a joke. It’s a commitment. It’s a promise to the wood.
OWEN: A promise, huh? So when you put it on, you’re basically saying, “I shellac you.” Get it? Like, “I shall lack you”? But with shellac? Because you won’t lack the finish… you’ll… you’ll have it…
(Owen trails off, his own logic momentarily stumping him.)
RICK: (Staring into the middle distance) Mr. Ruloff would have loved this. His two best students. One, a master craftsman. The other, a wellness guru. And now we have… this. A talking beaver who makes puns.
OWEN: Hey, I’m just fir you guys! Trying to spruce things up! This place was looking a little plane! Get it? Plane? Like the tool? Wow.
JCJ: (Puts his plane down with a definitive thud) That’s it. I’m going to go sit in the wood shed. Alone. Where it’s quiet. If you need me, don’t. If it’s an emergency, make it a tree-son.
OWEN: (As JCJ marches out) He’s pining for solitude! See? I’m getting the hang of this!
RICK: Owen, my friend, you are a living, breathing argument against our entire mentorship. Mr. Ruloff dedicated his life to the quiet dignity of the craft. And you… you’re the human equivalent of a whoopee cushion on a Chippendale chair.
OWEN: (Beaming) Thanks, Rick! That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Wow.