affame_le_geant_we_do_not_serve_wolfmen fyn gula "WHAT THE FUCK!" keggi shouted in understandable shock as he witnessed the bizarre actions of the waitress. splashes and bits and pieces of the appetizer she just dropped ended up on his black leather pants. "oh! i am really so very sorry," she said, arching her back and placing one finger on her forehead in a mock faint. keggi disregarded her overdramatic pretense, realizing she was obeying the direction of the coniving frafkuel. he glared instead at dispiacere. "THIS SUCKS!" he said, wiping the mess from his legs with a linen napkin. "what a fucking waste." poj, more nonplussed than angry had a question instead of an acqusation. "what POSSIBLE reason could you possess to do such a thing?" he asked, accentuating the word, "possible" with a heightened volume that suggested a false sense of superiority. the frafkuel laughed. cayris, embarressed for himself and his comrades looked out the window in a desperate attempt to escape the flush to his face. he knew what the frafkuel was doing. "it is so ironical that you call your revolutionary movement, 'the unsufferable hunger of the damned,' dispiacere chuckled. "though you base your premise on the insatiable appetite for self-fullfillment, you are discovering with increasing frustration: a famine of the soul." he banged the table for effect. "there's just nothing to eat!" he laughed again. the door opened and they all turned to see that the teenage-rabbit busboy had let a potbelly pig into the room. it was wearing a weather-worn tibetan prayer flag that served as sudo-saddle where a kapuchean monkey wearing a vest of many colors was riding and holding a sign that read in french: "we do not serve wolfmen." the pig cleaned up the mess immediately. 030401 what's it to you? who go blather from