Now that Richard Atnip is a former NABC employee and in the process of moving to Chicago for his new job (we wish him the very best), I’ll relate this story.
Richard called me over one day a few weeks back and replayed a voice mail from an unknown number. It sounded like an older man, and neither of us recognized the voice.
The caller wanted to report to Richard that higher ups at NABC (which I took to mean me) had authorized his being poisoned via the food at BSB, poisoned again when he went to eat at the Pizzeria, and for good measure, and then poisoned a final time for good measure by means of a growler filled on his third visit to one of our establishments.
The man made it clear that he could not reveal his identity, given the insidious and pervasive nature of the conspiracy against him.
I am compelled to paraphrase the old joke:
Caller: Publican, when I go there, you try to poison me.
Publican: Well, stop going there.
By the way, has anyone seen King Larry lately?
2 comments:
But the beer, pizza, and steak salad are so good, I can't stop going.
Thank you for saying that.
Post a Comment