Here in RrrrrrAdelaide! there is a well-known restaurant that specializes in serving big thick steaks to big thick men. The kitchen has a window that abuts the footpath so that passers-by can peer in and marvel at the juicy cuts. Cuts, I say, cuts. There is something compelling about it that causes everyone to stop and look, even people like me who don't eat much in the way of enormous slabs of meat anymore.
I invented a fun pastime last week which involves strolling up behind the people ogling the thick steaks and interjecting in their conversation. The game is simple: every time somebody makes any reference to the meat, you must say, "No, that's one of the chefs."
Here's how it unfolded:
Stranger 1
Oh my god, look at the size of those steaks.
PTR
No, that's one of the chefs.
Stranger 1
Huh?
Stranger 2
Is it all just steak?
Stranger 1
I think there are some lamb chops up the back there.
PTR
No, that's one of the chefs.
Stranger 1
Huh??
Stranger 2
Look they also have chicken.
PTR
No, that's one of the chefs.
Stranger 2
Huh???
Stranger 1
I don't even think I could finish something that big.
PTR
No, that's one of OW!
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