Bad date.

She's gone to the bathroom. I breathe a sigh of relief: this date is not going well. The online service seemed reliable, am I just extra tongue-tied tonight? Maybe some wine will help. I look at the menu. It's bone-white and blank, except for a single deep-set inscription, bold-faced, block-text: ONE HUMAN PORTION OF FEED. Huh! I think. That sounds pretty good!