(with apologies to Misters Goldman and Izzard)
TO THE NOM
Jeff Vader: First things first, death by tray.
server: No. To the nom.
Jeff Vader: I don’t think I’m quite familiar with that phrase.
server: I’ll explain and I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon.
Jeff Vader: That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me.
server: It won’t be the last. To the nom means the first thing I will eat will be my french fries. With mayonnaise. Then I will take a sip of my Mexican Coca-Cola made with real cane sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup. Then a bite of my large FatBurger. Then I will cut off your hands at the wrists and your feet at the ankles. Next your tongue.
Jeff Vader: And then my ears, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time. A mistake I don’t mean to duplicate tonight.
server: I wasn’t finished. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right.
Jeff Vader: And then my nose, I understand. Let’s get on with it.
server: WRONG. Your nose you keep and I’ll tell you why. So that every scent of food you smell that you cannot taste will be yours to cherish. Every burger, every pizza, every hot-wing that wafts by your nose will make you cry out and the thought, “Dear God! What is that wonderful-smelling thing,” will echo in your brain. That is what to the nom means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish hunger forever.
Jeff Vader: … I think you’re bluffing.
server: It’s possible, pig. I might be bluffing. It’s conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I’m only lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But, then again … perhaps I have the strength after all.
server: DROP … YOUR … TRAY!