“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you…the future,” Claude removed a small napkin to reveal a different container. The audience was unimpressed.
“What are we looking at here, Claude?” Asked the restaurant’s owner, stumped by the shiny metal container on the table.
“The future is chrome?” The head waiter asked.
“The future, my friends, is packaging!” Claude removed the lid of the shiny metal container with grand flourish.
“Now the future is a nondescript brown paper box?” The head chef asked.
“So it would appear,” Claude said, teasingly, “but, behold!” With another dramatic motion, the box was opened.
“Another package?” The owner questioned.
“I don’t want to eat a Russian nesting doll for brunch.” The waiter complained.
“I don’t want to fill those at brunch.” The chef guffawed.
“But friends, there is but one more surprise. Open that final, wee, envelope,” Claude prompted with a hint of mystery in his voice.
The owner reached out to the envelope in the tiny box, atop the shiny tray that was once beneath a dark red cloth. The paper was unfolded with care and quickly read over.
“This is a dumb way to resign, Claude.” The owner said. The piece of paper was tossed to the table in disgust.
“Later, dummies!” Claude said. He threw his apron on top of the paper and walked away.
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