“Yes, there is. But first… I’d like to compliment you.” The manager blinked, caught off guard. “Oh? On what, exactly?” “Your kitchen,” Arthur said, his voice measured and calm. “The kitchen?” the manager repeated, puzzled. “Have you been back there?”
Arthur looked him square in the eye. “No. But it must be clean…” The manager tilted his head. “Why’s that?” Arthur leaned forward slightly, deadpan.“Because everything on my plate tastes like soap.”A very attractive young lady was sitting in a fine restaurant one night.