I welcome thee into our fair eatery family. Lo, yonder toddler her Happy Meal overturns. Our ivory floor shant be covered in slop; you know the drill, get a bucket and mop!
Away I clean, fearest thyself not! I command yon fell stain, Out! Out, damned spot!
Yo, Bethie, The end of my shift on the grill draws nigh. Once you've polished the floor, there lies in my doublet a dispenser of Special Sauce that must needs cleaned.
Fie, now, Duncan, O' porcine grillboy, lest your wiener be caught in some big ebon buns.
Help! Help! Afire am I. Pushed into the vat of hellish lard. Prithee extinguish, ere I make an ash of myself.
Come hither, Elizabeth, Duncan hath in fryer fell. Thy promotion awaits, now cook the burghers the burgers.
