Uh … I said nothing about eating it … xD
Many, many, many years ago, I bused tables in a coffee shop (what we would call a “diner” now) that had a bad, off-again-on-again mouse problem. I used to tease the cook and wait staff with bad puns. One time I ordered the “portermouse” steak.
Yes, the cook brought me a grilled mouse.
The tips are indeed insane—and the customers tip well, too.
Thank you, Empty Skully.
I just troved you wrong. I’n a trofessional ventriloquist.
“Why is there a separate receipt for his as—”
“His burro, son, his burro.”
“Then have a seat.”