Off the Menu

Scene: A restaurant is moderately busy. A customer, REGINALD, sits at a table with a menu, tapping it rhythmically with a fork. The WAITER approaches with a polite smile.

WAITER: Good evening, sir. Have you decided what you’d like?

REGINALD: Yes, indeed. I’ll start with an amuse-bouche.

WAITER: Certainly. We have—

REGINALD: I’ll have a single kumquat stuffed with wasabi and garnished with edible gold leaf.

WAITER: I’m afraid we don’t have kumquats, sir. Or edible gold leaf.

REGINALD: No kumquats? In this economy? Fine, I’ll settle for a pickled ostrich egg, sliced thinly, served on a single lotus leaf.

WAITER: We don’t have ostrich eggs either, sir.

REGINALD: All right, let’s move on. For the main course, I’ll have… hmm… an elk steak, medium-rare, infused with truffle oil, and a side of glow-in-the-dark mashed potatoes.

WAITER: Glow-in-the-dark—? Sir, I don’t believe that’s a thing.

REGINALD: (offended) Not a thing? I had it just last week in Piccadilly. Or was it a dream? Never mind, I’ll take a roasted dodo.

WAITER: A… dodo?

REGINALD: Yes, dodo. The extinct bird. They’re quite tender, I hear.

WAITER: Sir, they’ve been extinct for centuries.

REGINALD: So your restaurant isn’t sustainable, then? Disappointing.

WAITER: Perhaps something from the actual menu?

REGINALD: Fine, fine. For dessert, I’ll have a soufflé made with unicorn milk.

WAITER: Sir, unicorns don’t exist. May I recommend the chocolate cake? It’s very popular.

REGINALD: Cake? How pedestrian. Fine, but only if you flambé it at the table while reciting poetry.

WAITER: Poetry?

REGINALD: Byron, preferably. Or Shelley, if you’re in the mood.

WAITER: I’ll… see what I can do.

REGINALD: Splendid. Oh, and a drink. Bring me water. But not just any water. It must be glacier water, melted under the light of a full moon.

WAITER: Tap water, then?

REGINALD: If you must. But chill it with artisanal ice cubes.

WAITER: Artisanal ice cubes?

REGINALD: Hand-carved by a monk. Preferably one with a beard.

WAITER: I need a new job.

(The waiter walks off, muttering, as REGINALD begins inspecting his fork with great intensity.)