But that's my favorite restaurant. (Also a beverage alert)
To Whom It May Concern:
I don’t find goat nipples an appetizing dish. I cringe while watching that scene in The Temple of Doom where Indiana Jones is a guest at an Indian banquet that serves live snakes and chilled monkey brains. Hey, some people might like goat nipples and chimpanzee gallbladder juice on ice, that’s their prerogative. I, on the other hand, do not.
So when I order a cheeseburger, plain and dry, no lettuce, ketchup, pickles, tomatoes, I think that the item in the bag that comes my way a minute later should have nothing on it other than a slab of greasy meat smothered with melted cheese. Do you see how goat nipples shouldn’t factor into this? I don’t even want to know how one managed to infiltrate my burger in the first place. The important thing is that it did.
Now I tried to explain my predicament to the manager, in small, gentle words, but he couldn’t quite grasp the concept of giving people exactly what they order. Goat nipples on cheeseburgers? Perfectly acceptable in his enlightened analysis of the situation. Arguing with one of your highly gifted managers over whether or not there is a diseased goat nipple button on the register is a very surreal experience, and a potentially damaging one. It was like The Twilight Zone’s wet dream of The Twilight Zone.
As such, please return $6.04 in included SASE. And hold the goat nipples; I’ll hold the lawsuit.