Luke's Diner, June 22 (Friday)

[queen-of-zagreb.livejournal.com]

The Spam? Almost gone. But not quite gone enough for Yitzhak's liking. So he was abandoning the Friday musical theme in favor of an all-out Spam-elimination attempt.

This might have had something to do with his less-than-stellar wig and makeup job today.

Today's Specials
Egg, Bacon, and Spam
Egg, Bacon, Sausage and Spam
Spam, Bacon, Sausage and Spam
Spam, Egg, Spam, Spam, Bacon and Spam
Spam, Sausage, Spam, Spam, Bacon, Spam, Tomato and Spam
Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Baked Beans, Spam, Spam, Spam
Lutefisk

Lobster is Café Fina's department, sorry.

Luke's is open, and (hopefully for the last time) Spam-a-rific.

Comments

Talk to Yitzhak

[queen-of-zagreb.livejournal.com]

"Talk" being, as always, a relative term. At least in terms of getting a response.

Re: Talk to Yitzhak

[ihatedenmark.livejournal.com]

After helping out in the park, Hamlet finally made it down to town as part of his goal of getting something to eat. He stopped outside of Luke's, rad the sign board and grinned before entering.

"You have actual lutefisk here?" he asked hopefully.

Figures that the only Scandinavian student in town would be looking forward to seeing that.

Re: Talk to Yitzhak

[queen-of-zagreb.livejournal.com]

Yitzhak tilted his head in a generally affirmative gesture. Of course, the subtleties of said gesture included the qualifiers "from a jar" and "not the best quality," but in the broader sense, yes, it was actual lutefisk.

He quirked his eyebrows, wondering if Hamlet would actually want some. And possibly if he wanted some Spam on the side.

Re: Talk to Yitzhak

[ihatedenmark.livejournal.com]

It was highly possible that some of those extra qualifiers might have been missed by Hamlet.

"I'll take an order," he said. "Hold the spam." Mmm, dried fish soaked in lye for a few weeks; how could anyone say no?"

Re: Talk to Yitzhak

[queen-of-zagreb.livejournal.com]

It was highly possible that Yitzhak had been counting on the missed qualifiers. And guaranteed that he was cursing the loss of a chance to offload some more of the damned Spam.

. . . well, the Spam smelled a little better, anyway. Marginally.

He gestured for Hamlet to take a seat and disappeared into the back for a few minutes, at which point some clattering and a brief, muffled shriek of horror drifted out into the diner. When he re-emerged (any appearance of being slightly the worse for wear was a misperception, really) he had a plate of lutefisk, with bacon and potatoes, in hand.

Even when supplies were running low at the end of a less than successful road tour, you had to draw the line somewhere. Hedwig hadn't wanted the smell of lutefisk anywhere near the wigs.

Mod Your Server

[queen-of-zagreb.livejournal.com]

If you'd rather have a server you want to tip.

OOC

[queen-of-zagreb.livejournal.com]

Oh, come on, I couldn't do a Spam week and not do this.