Everything About Fiction You Never Wanted to Know.
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Maitre D: And finally, monsieur, a wafer-thin mint.
Mr Creosote: No.
Maitre D: Oh sir! It's only a tiny little thin one.
Mr Creosote: No. Fuck off - I'm full...
Maitre D: Oh sir... it's only wafer thin.
Mr Creosote: Look - I couldn't eat another thing. I'm absolutely stuffed. Bugger off.
Maitre D: Oh sir, just... just one...
Mr Creosote: Oh all right. Just one.
Maitre D: Just the one, sir... voila... bon appetit...
(As the Maitre D' takes cover, Mr. Creosote swallows the mint, expands and then blows up dramatically, spewing vomit and guts on everyone and showing his open rib cage and still beating heart.)
Maitre D: Thank you, sir, and now the check.
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