Breakfast at Tiffany's

So I invite loopy neighbor Emory to breakfast at Edna's Cafe on main street. As we enter the restaurant, a woman with a dog enters at the same time.

"Whoa!" Emory says to me, "A dog can't come into a restaurant."

"Don't worry," I reply, "it's wearing a sign which says, 'Service Dog.'" Emory grunts and we're quickly met by the waiter who leads us to our table.

Emory proceeds to embarrass me by ordering---ugh---beets and squash loudly enough for the other customers to overhear, as he thinks that he's thereby promoting our farm products. As we're finishing our meal, the knucklehead then turns to the dog which is on the floor at the table next to ours and shouts several times, "Hey, service dog, get me another cup of coffee!"