After he turns his restaurant's logo into a fanged icon,
Spencer ratchets up the whole shebang.
He has learned how a family restaurant
can be an instrument of torture.
THE BULLY FRY COOK
pretends to work, but is actually listening to a conversation taking place behind the door of the Managerial Office.
"So," Melvin is saying, "you personally watched Mr. Sproul having rectal intercourse with the red-haired tot?"
MELVIN
is sitting behind his desk, feet up, a coffee cup half-full of wine in his hand, Mancini's "Love Theme from Romeo and Juliet" on the CD player. He's relaxed to the point of drooping around the edges of his chair like an amoeba.
TRISHY
the bus girl stands before him. She has tears in her eyes, and is on the verge of weeping. "Well, no," she says, "but--"
"But? But what? But you called the cops on him, anyway?"
"Mr. Sproul's such a nice man. What he has is a sort of health problem. People with his sort of health problem need prompt emergency medical care. Or else they won't stop, um, having his health problem. Sort of."
"So why didn't you call the doctor instead of the cops?"
Having no reply to that razor-sharp logic, Trishy breaks down into sobs.
UNMOVED,
Melvin says, "That man is a regular atavistic savant with the numbers. And he's got the most company loyalty to me and LEMCO of anyone on the roster. For example, I expect you, treasonous Trishy, to go the way of our ex-cashier any day now."
He nods toward his little window, and Dagbert's Family Eatery beyond. Melvin's sitting too low to see between the orange and turquoise curtains, but Trishy witnesses an act of industrial espionage going on at this very moment.
