My friend who owns a gourmet shop gave me upon request, a modest slice of grilled eggplant that, after eating it, made me look like a pylon who swallowed a rat, the button to my jeans popping after telling me, there was no salt.
“Anthony, remember that eggplant you gave me?”
He nods while chomping on a baguette.
“You did say, there was no salt, right?…
He doesn’t answer…chomp chomp.
I’m only asking because, I think there was, and quite a bit as a matter of fact.”
“What’s your point?” he asks, with his mouth full.
“My point is, if someone had high blood pressure, or a heart condition, it wouldn’t be good for them.”
“Do you have high blood pressure?”
“Then shut up and have some toast.”
Our respective Italian now goes toe-to-toe.
“Anthony, you can’t say your food has no salt if it does. That’s false advertising, plus these people trust you when you tell them something, like all you sell is organic.”
“What are you, Miss vegetable now? I’m running a business.”
“Well that doesn’t give you the right to lie or to make your workers lie.”
“My workers don’t lie.”
“Is that why Arturo is doctoring up the bean salad?”
“It gets limp overnight.”
“Apparently, that’s not the only thing.”
What happened next?