IMBECILE!" the chef shouted. "Next time why don't you just put your whole HAND in the food, hey? Yes, your whole hand, or maybe your FACE! I arrange the food on plates with care, are you understanding what I am telling you? It is part of the art form of cooking, yes? A lovely plate of food is a thing of beauty! And then you, NUMBSKULL, come along and put your fat greasy FINGERS all over my plate, and SHAKE the plate, and move my food all around the plate until it looks like pigs' vomit!" "Chef Vlad!" I cried out in delight.

If my heart were a compass, you'd be North.

If anyone comes near you, just scream and run.

I'm cursed with this puritanical streak that makes me want everything to be about something. It's a terrible affliction.

It's the way you look whenever she mentions her fiance. My cat looks like that before he hacks up a hairball.

The preface? Why would he waste time with the preface? Skip the preface and move on to the meat of the thing!

Let me get you all some punch,” I said. “You're leaving us?” said Isabel, sounding panicky. “I'll be right back,” I promised. “If anyone comes near you, just scream and run.