"How can you be out of your main meal?" I say to the barman.
"We've had a private party yesterday and they cleared us out of everything."
"Wow. Hungry people, huh?" Purple Rain said.
"Not really. Even though they bought everything, they left a lot behind, and that had to be thrown out."
"Damn." I turn to her. "Well, what do you want to do?"
"Fries are better than nothing."
Twenty minutes later we had our two sides of cut potatoes, plastered in oil, some more burnt than others. She grabs the first one, dips it into the ketchup we had on the table, but not a little bit of red sauce, more like two thirds of the sucker, and throws it in her mouth. A spectacle in itself.
Now if only she wouldn't have spit it out and ran straight the toilet, we might have had a decent afternoon.