Goodness. This baked alaska really is delightful. No wonder the reviews for this place were so great.

You can almost feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you finish off the last bite. Why did it have to be this way? Why is life so cruel?

You gaze over towards the restaurant's front door from your sunlit spot on the patio, hoping to catch a glimpse of your waiter. Instead an old, stern, very sharply dressed, Lupe strides rather quickly out of the door. He's followed closely by a rather tall, distressed-looking, messy haired, young Kacheek...

Wait, you've seen that Kacheek before! His pictures are always in the paper and magazines next to the reviews of the restaurants! He's the son of the owners! The one who concocts all of these delightful meals! You simply must speak to him, but hold on. There appears to be a bit of drama.... You like drama...

You quickly jump up from your chair and do your best to act natural as you weave through the tables and chairs and other customers towards the Lupe and Kacheek, who have now stopped a few feet from the restaurant doors.

You sneak up towards them and casually hover nearby, pretending to read the outdoor menu board. Hm... you didn't know grilled rockfish was even possible... but that's not the point right now. You glance over towards your targets and perk up one ear.

***

The Kacheek (whose name has completely slipped your mind) appears to be consoling the grumpy looking Lupe. The Lupe does not appear to be impressed.

"I really am sorry about that, sir, I certainly meant you no harm. We just... uh... have a special order! Yes. That's it, and, uh, the tray my mother brought you was for the special order, not for you. Honest mix-up. Happens to everyone, amirite?"

The Lupe's gaze turns to ice as he adjusts his glasses.

"Mix-ups happen. I'm quite aware of that. I've been in this business a lot longer than you have, boy. But SLAPPING FOOD OUT OF A CUSTOMER'S HAND is in no way an appropriate way to deal with an 'honest mix-up'."

The Kacheek's face flushes red instantly.

"I-Uh. Yessir. I understand. I cannot apologize enough for my behavior. I surprise even myself sometimes. Hehe. But I WILL make it up to you in any way that I can. Do you have children?"

He gives the Lupe a sheepish grin.

The Lupe blinks in confusion at the sudden subject change, but responds semi-enthusiastically.

"Um. Well, yes. My daughter. She's grown now. Two lovely grandchildren as well..."

"-Grandchildren?! You?! But you look so young!"

"Oh. No no, enough of that now. Flatter me all you like, but-"

"-but what lucky, lucky, grandchildren you have! Oh I'm sure they adore you! Do you have pictures? I'd love to see! I simply adore children..."

You can't help but find the situation amusing. Goodness, he slapped food out of a customer's hand? You scold yourself for choosing to sit on the patio today...

You glance back over to see the Kacheek leaning over several wallet-sized family photos that the Lupe has retrieved from his wallet.

The Kacheek's eyes sparkle as he simply gushes over the pictures. The Lupe appears to be pleased.

"Oh goodness, would you look at her pigtails, and what a strapping young boy! He'll go into sports, that one. That's for sure!" the Kacheek exclaims."You simply MUST bring them to the restaurant sometime! Do they like chocolates? Let me give you some chocolates to take to them before you go! Of course you understand you can come back and eat for free any time! I feel truly awful about my outburst; rest assured I'll be apologizing to my mother as well, definitely gave her a scare! Haha."

"That's very kind of you," the Lupe says, grinning. "You really mustn't go to all the trouble..."

"No! No, sir! I insist! You head right back inside and ask my mother for a box of our finest! She'll be happy to oblige! Thank you so much for visiting, Mr. Bluth!" the Kacheek says as he gently pats the Lupe on the back and guides him back towards the front door.

You quickly direct your attention back to the menu board, still listening intently.

"Thank you very much, Mr-"

"Oh, no need for such formalities. I'm only twenty three, after all! Call me Fondhu!"

"Fondhu. Thank you, Fondhu. I'll be sure to bring my grandchildren for a visit."

"Oh, please do!"

You hear the front door close and glance back up from the menu board.

The playful smile in his dark red eyes is replaced instantly by a look of exhaustion.

"The SILVER trays..." he mutters to himself. "I always say, the SILVER trays are for the customers, the gold are MINE. Why is it not understood how important that is? So simple, food on the GOLD trays is NOT for customers. Goodness. Do you people WANT this place to get shut down?." He shakes his head and his cream colored curls shake with it, making his hair appear even messier.

"What do I have to do, put labels on them? Like it's not bad enough..." He chuckles to him self and slips his hands into the pockets of his wrinkled name brand trousers. "Labels. Imagine. 'Safe for customers.' 'Not safe for customers.' Haha. I'm sure the health inspectors would LOVE it." He turns and begins to casually saunter towards the patio. He nods his head towards you as he passes.

"Lovely weather, isn't it?" he says.

"Uh. Hehe. Yeah," you reply.

Suddenly you're not so sure if you'd like to try the grilled rockfish after all...