Valentine's Day Massacre

Unlimited salad bar. Never has that been put to the test. Until I met Nicola.

I heard her before I saw her. Sounded like the Titantic sinking and looked like the fucking iceberg that hit it. I'm sure three quarters of her was under the water. Martin has never climbed into his box quicker. I wished I could have followed him.

Nicola was louder than a riot and ate everything that moved. Or was fried. Or was covered in Red Devil sauce. The MD at the Harvester took me aside at one point and said he loved my business and everything but this bitch was going to bankrupt him and possibly the Harvester chain. The chef had cooked up a month's supply of garlic bread and now had to make his own. He didn't have a clue. They wanted this street cleaner moved.

Anyway I made a profit. The MD paid for my meal. Gave me a coupon for free profitorles next time. But he never ever wanted that trash compactor near the restaurant again.

It would have been an awkward kiss in the car park. Had I not driven away at great speed. Leaving Nicola knawing on old tire. Thanks Malcolm!