I come from a small family of fourteen. Leaving food on the table was like abandoning it to the wolves (especially when Gramps wore his dentures).
So, when my newest client waddled off to the bathroom during our lunch meeting, I snarfed his entire hotdog without a second thought.
“Inspector! The hand soap stinks of cheese!”
Pleased that he washed his hands, I quickly tossed his plate beneath the table and turned towards my own meal.
“I hope you don’t mind if I start eating?”
“No, not at all!” He struggled to squeeze his enormous buttcheeks back into the booth. “My jumbo beef bomb hasn’t come yet?”
“No sign of it.” I said, “meat that thick must cook awhile! Why don’t you tell me about those missing flower pots?”
“Priceless vases…” he replied, eyes growing distant. Without another word, he slumped into the cushions, moaning silently, rocking like a boat.
For a moment, I paused, bewildered, then dug into the garlic tater tots. He keeled over, whispering “my tummy hurts.”
Ugh, the awkwardness… me gobbling down our sides while he clutched his swollen throat. By the time I finished dessert, a waitress walked past to find him lying on the floor.
“Why does the soap smell like cheese?” he asked.
As if accustomed to this question, she smiled and said, “Excuse me sir, but that’s one of our famous nacho cheese dispensers.”
“I’m allergic to dairy!”
Before the ambulance got there, I left him with the bill.
by: DOM
That will teach him to wash his hands before he eats! Poor habits are best.
I thought he was sad about the vases! A nacho cheese dispenser sounds pretty handy. I don’t blame them for eating his jumbo beef bomb. I would, too!