Chapter Eighty-Four
Not long after, Mifkin sat down to lunch, where he hoped, as does each of us in the same circumstance, to enjoy a quiet repast without his sexuality being insulted. However, he was disappointed to find on his plate the word Somdomite (thus misspelt) in carrots and potato slices. Not being acquainted with this word, he was obliged to consult several adjacent diners as to its meaning, until he was apprised of the obfuscating m, after which, all became clear.
“A little strange,” he chuckled to the others. “I mean, to advertise one’s inclinations, which, one must remember, are technically illegal, in that way.”
“What do you mean?” asked Frau Hühnerbeinstein, who sat nearby.
“Well—the chef, or perhaps the waiter, chose to proclaim his proclivities via the life-sustaining medium of food.”
“I think they intended the message with respect to some other person.”
“Is that right? Then—whom?”
Popping a carrot in his mouth, it finally made sense.
“I’m very sorry, madame,” he bowed to Gilda. “I will personally redress this insult to your reputation.”
“But the plate was not served to me, monsieur.”
Mifkin blushed; there was now no further ambiguity.
He rushed into the kitchen to find the back of a balding man of middle height scurrying out; Mifkin gave chase, but Aloysius chose that moment to carry a large plate of a trifling number of oysters under a cloche across the room, colliding with the deputy manager and causing an almighty fuss. Mifkin disposed of Aloysius by tossing him bodily (as opposed to soulfully) across the room, then resumed his pursuit of the scoundrel, who had by now faded into the wallpaper. Mifkin was left with no choice but to corral a group of witnesses to his oath: he would revenge himself for this insult—to the death, by God, if it came to that!