“(Alternative: A.J. whips out a bottle of ketchup and douses the haute cuisine.)
Thirty gourmets stop chewing at once. You could have heard a soufflé drop. As for Robert, he lets out a bellow of rage like a wounded elephant, runs to the kitchen and arms himself with a meat cleaver….The sommelier snarls hideously, his face turning a strange iridescent purple….He breaks off a bottle of Brut Champagne….’ 26..Pierre, the head waiter, snatches up a boning knife. All three chase A.J. through the restaurant with mangled inhuman screams of rage…Tables overturn, vintage wines and matchless food crash to the floor…Cries of “Lynch him!” ring through the air. An elderly gourmet with insane bloodshot eyes of a mandrill is fashioning a hangman’s knot with a velvet curtain cord…”
William S. Burroughs, “Naked Lunch”, 1959
