The irate diner raised his hand to catch the attention of a passing waiter.

"Excuse me," said the man, "but how long have you been working here?"

"About a year," replied the waiter.

"In that case," continued the diner, "it couldn't have been you that took my order."

Then there was the diner who collared the waiter and complained that his meal wasn't fit for a pig.

"I'm so sorry," replied the waiter, 'Til go back and bring you one that is."

"Waiter!" shouted the furious diner, "how dare you serve me this! There's a bloody twig in my soup!"

"My apologies," said the waiter. "I'll inform the branch manager."

The inexperienced waiter came over, and Mr. James said, "I want chicken smothered in gravy.™]

"I'm sorry," the waiter replied, "but if you want it slaughtered in so unmerciful a manner, you'll have to do it yourself."

"Maitre d!" shouted the angry diner, "there's a fly in my soup! What's the meaning of this?"

Bowing politely, the mustachioed gentleman said, "I couldn't say. May I recommend a good fortune-teller?"

When NASA opened the first restaurant on the moon, one visitor complained to another, "Y'know, this place has great fooH and terrific service, but there's one thing wrong with it."

"What's that?"

The visitor replied, "No atmosphere."

Then there was the southerner who ordered chitlms and admonished the waiter to "cook the shit out of'em."

Then there's the chef who cooks carrots and peas in the same pot. He was shut down by the health department.

The saleswoman sat down at the counter in thee run-down diner. It wasn't the land of place she'd have visited on her own, but she was on the road, and it was the only place open.

"Ill have the chicken noodle soup," she said, looking at the menu. After all, she reasoned, the soup would have to have been boiled.

The man behind the counter said, "Sorry, hon, we ain't got that today."

"What do you have?" she asked.

"Chicken pea," he replied.

Growing pale, the woman said, "111 just have coffee, thanks."

Dining at Pattie's Pie Parlor, Mr. DeMille called Pattie over.

"Listen," he said, "this peach torte is terrible." "But sir," Pattie answered back, "it's our specialty! We've been serving this torte for years.|| "In that case," Mr. DeMille replied, "let n have something you cooked more recently."