Gwen pulled into the parking lot of Aunt

Gwen pulled into the parking lot of Aunt Valetta’s Sentient Sofa Bar and Grill™. She'd been starving all day, but hadn't found a thing to eat at the Turgid Stoat Sanctuary.

Gwen was greeted by Squawkers,the mascot maitre d', who recited the mouthwatering specials for the day. "We've got waffles, Spam Baby sammiches, seagrass salad, and for dessert we

have crackers." Squawker's always added the crackers part. Damn parakeet, who thought that would be a good mascot maitre d' for a Waffle House? Squawkers took his job very seriousl

him, and the Employee of the Month wall displayed his portrait for 7 months now. The line cooks hated looking at it. They were sick of his limelight. They had never poisoned a parr

-boiled ham before, but well there was a first for everything. The line cooks made a giant mirror to reflect his limelight back onto themselves. They basked in it, people noticed t

but t considered them all fools worthy only of pity. He insisted theY call him Mister. Secretly though, in the dark alleys they called him Tibbs after that bloke in Miami Vice.

Alleys were there to go dumpster diving and find free yogurt, cream cheese, bread and bagels of all favours. That was how we survived-foraging. It was a valuable skill. Tibbs

was a master of the art of dumpster foraging, and aside from gastritis and the resultant colostomy bag, had survived quite well. Tibbs had earned millions in trading, but still

hated Wall Street so much he rather find something in the Arby's dumpster than have duck tartar with those greedy, suited f**ks. He was now free from capitalism's puppet strings.