Quick post, bitches. I’m late for my arraignment. Why? Because apparently in the States it’s not acceptable to bite someone’s forehead.

It was strange. Not the part about biting a forehead, but how utterly similar it tasted to a farm-raised elk I’ve been getting from a purveyor in the Midwest.

Basically what happened is this: I was making my way around the dining room, asking everyone how their meal was. You know, putting on the old “I really give a shit what you, a tax attorney or public relations specialist, think of what I, a Michelin gazillion-star chef, cook.”

I was heading back into the kitchen when a customer bumped into me as he was coming out of the loo. On accident, yes, but into me nonetheless. I politely told him he’s lucky there are so many witnesses or I’d shove a frozen Wagyu beef tenderloin up his arse. He turned towards his table without responding, and I don’t think he got the message. So I did what anyone else would do in my situation, I chomped on his forehead.

The first thing I thought was “damn I wish my camera crew was here. This would’ve made for some great TV. My second thought was “I hope those puncture wounds aren’t as bad as they look.”

I tried to make a joke about how tomorrow’s special would be blood sausage with all the blood gushing down his kisser. Apparently, the customer’s table thought that was in poor taste. Tight asses. To right things, I gave him a free dessert. But they pressed charges anyway. Now I know it doesn’t pay to be nice in America.

Now that I think about it, it might have been me that bumped into that poor bloke in the first place, not the other way around. Oopsies.

Bottom line is this: I need to order more of that elk.