“Okay. But it was definitely Smelly Santy. You remember — from the Mission. The eggs, Bill. They must have killed him (!). The Bennington experiments.”
“Nasty place. Even I would admit that.”
“Dwayne, a complaint from the customer at Table D.”
Angus Nuffin was happy. He knew this would be his last night as a chef at Perch Restaurant. Last piece of tuna in the fridge — everything was set up. Yes, there’s his supervisor Dwayne coming round the corner after taking The Bill’s order.
“Nuffin, this is a *very* special customer. One grilled tuna for the new queen of Collagesity, *lightly* cooked.”
“Coming up boss.”
“And *don’t* sit around on the appliances if you’re not cooking. *Clean* or something.”
“Right you are boss.” Nuffin nimbly hops off the dishwasher and heads to the fridge.
“All right Dwayne you bastard,” Angus mutters under his breath. “Just move along so that I can burn this baby to an utter crisp.”
“I recognized him immediately, The Bill.”
“Bill will do. We’ll think about the royal appellation later.”
There you go.