She asked me if I wanted another cracker. When I said no, she said she didn't understand because she loves crackers.
Just then the waiter came by and saw I had not eaten my cracker. He asked if there was something wrong with the cracker.
I said I didn't know if there was anything wrong with their crackers, because I didn't eat one.
He then asked if there was anything wrong with the looks of the crackers that made me not want to eat one.
I explained, as politely as I could, that ever since I had a dream as a child, every time I feel and hear the crunch of a cracker in my mouth, I can only envision that I'm biting down and thru a cockroach. And they taste terrible.
The waiter's face turned pale. She looked revolted. Someone at the table next to us said something about there being roaches in the crackers. A voice from the other side of that table said they had felt something moving in their mouth when they took a bite of their cracker.
I think I remember some guy in a chef's hat grabbing hold of me and throwing me out the door. As I dusted my pants off from the sidewalk debris, I saw her crying on the shoulder of a guy in some kind of manly uniform.
Let me tell you: That's the last time I'm going to the Cheese and Cracker Bistro.