The top-hatted man used a small trowel to shovel grayish-green mashed potatoes onto a plate that resembled a manhole cover in size, creating a veritable root-vegetable Mount Everest, causing her a bit of panic regarding how on earth she would ever be able to consume enough to be polite.

“If you please, sir, I shall never be able to eat all of that, much as I would like to. Is it possible that you would take that plate and I could have another?” A strange silence fell over the top-hatted man’s dining companions that made the tiny little hairs on the back of her miniscule neck stand straight up and vibrate as if she’d recently been in contact with unhealthily high voltage.