Uh, Chris, look.

My name's Chris Peterson, Americano.

Chris, there are food inspectors.

Chris, don't you realize this is the work of food inspectors?

Why I think all the bad food inspectors should be put behind bars by Chris Peterson.

Figure out how the real world works.

Come on, shake it out the door.

And if I don't not testify, then Rob might want his five dollars back.

In accordance with the rules of Major League Baseball, I demand that that man show his hands.

And this Thursday, on an all-new 90210, will Brandon jeopardize his father's job to help a friend?

Some careless pizza tossing bastard didn't realize that his sock must have flown off and landed right in the middle of our pizza pie.

How'd you get in here?

I have seen things in here that make my eyes want to pop out of their sockets, run down my face, and hide in my back pants pockets.

Thanks a lot.

Wait a second.

Wait a second.

Wait a minute.

You got to choose your battles in life, son.

And if I don't not not don't testify, then I might get so confused that my head'll pop off and fly around the room making rude noises until all the air was out of it.

Backstage of a restaurant.