A/N: This doesn't really have a plot point, but I just record the stories, not make them up. Well, I do make them up, but...um...enjoy!

"In my story about the mushroom," Mr. Remora asked Violet, "what was the name of the chef?"

"Maurice," Violet answered.

"Come dear, what would you like to order?"

"Um…I think I'll have the spicy mushroom pate."
The waiter scribbled something on his notepad, and then said with a strong French accent:

"A fine choice madam, and what would you like sir?"

"I think I'll have the same."

"Ok, so zat iz two plate of spicy mushroom pate, wiz garden salad. Would you like any of ze drinks?"

"We'll have a bottle of your finest champagne!"

"Ok, your meal should be here shortly, I will return wiz ze champagne."
The waiter walked away from the table, and left the two diners smiling at each other.

"Oh Robert, thank-you so much! I can't believe you actually had reservations made here! Only famous people are allowed in here!"
Mr. Remora scanned the room, and sure enough, at every table there was someone he recognized that was either an actor or actress, or a singer, or a writer, or a director, or a-well, you get the point.

"Seriously Robert, how did you get us a place in here? And how do you plan to pay?"

"I've got friends in high places," Literally, Mr. Remora thought to himself, "and it's our anniversary, you deserve something special, and I don't care how much it costs."

"Oh, you're so sweet! Here comes our wine."
The waiter gave them their wine, and left them to themselves. They chattered away happily until they heard a noise.

Rumble rumble…

"What was that?"

"It was my stomach!"

Rumble rumble…

"Now my stomach's rumbling! I'm starving!"

"I wonder why our meal is taking so long to come, I'll go and find out."
Mr. Remora stood up and walked over to the restaurant's kitchen and knocked on the door.

"Who iz it?"
A chef opened the door without giving Mr. Remora time to answer his first question.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know why our meal hasn't arrived yet! It's taken over two hours!"
The chef turned into the kitchen and yelled:

"MAURICE! DOOR!"
A few seconds later, a short, tubby chef came to the door.

"Your meal 'az not arrived yet? What table are you at?"

"Table thirteen."

"I see…what did you order?"

"Two plates of spicy mushroom pate."

"Oh, I see. We're sorry for the mix-up, but the kitchen is closing in five minutes, you will be refunded for your meal, and please, take zis complementary bag of ze finest French mushrooms."
Mr. Remora grumbled, and walked back to his table with the mushrooms,

"Come on, we're going home, I need a banana."

"What happened dear?"

"I'll explain on the way home."

Mr. Remora got his refunded money and walked out of the restaurant.