For some reason, I dunno why, I imagined what would happen if Samuel L. Jackson had no concept of what valet parking was. I think it would go something like this:
Head waiter: May I have you keys, sir? The valet will bring your car around for you.
(Sam Jackson hands over keys...waiter leaves.)
Sam Jackson: Wait a sec...what the f*** is a valet?
(Sam Jackson storms out of restaurant as the waiter and the valet are waiting by his parked car.)
Head waiter: The valet brought your car, sir and--
Sam Jackson: What the f*** is a valet?
Head waiter: Errr...he brings your car around for you.
Sam Jackson: Well, if this isn't the crap icing on the s***cake! You mean to tell me that this punk drove around in my muthaf*****' car?
Valet: Sorry, sir, but I thought that by giving your keys, you--
Sam Jackson: I didn't ask you a thing. I didn't ask you a goddam thing!
(Sam Jackson opens the door to his car and looks around.)
Sam Jackson: Where'd my change go? I had a little dish for change. Now the change is gone. This is outrageous.
Valet: Sir, I didn't see any change...and please don't yell.
Sam Jackson: I ain't yelling! This is how I talk.
Sam Jackson peers inside again.)
Sam Jackson (calmly): Where's my Mounds bar?
Sam Jackson: My muthaf*****' Mounds bar. I was looking forward to the soft, moist coconut and the dark, dark chocolate. It's gone! You ate it!
(Raises fist to pummel the valet, then stops.)
Sam Jackson: Wait hold up...HOLD UP. I need to cool this s*** down. (Strokes chin) I spent the change on the Mounds bar...and ate it on the way. Accept my apologies...but I still don't like this one bit.
(Sam Jackson gets in car and drives off).
I dunno if I even meant this to be funny. These results of the meeting of Sam Jackson and a valet seem so...organic.