Cuisine can be such a subjective thing...
"And that's when I learned an hour after eating Chinese you really are hungry all over again." Algernon Craven quipped. The gathered dozen, waiting eagerly for the meal of a lifetime, broke into spontaneous laughter.
A young brunette, waiting for the mirth to subside, finally gathered the nerve to address the great man before her. "I just want to thank you for everything you've done for us." she gushed. "I mean for people like us. Thank you so much."
Her loveliness was not lost on the master of ceremonies, whose weakness for the flesh was well known.
"No my dear, thank you." he replied. "Thank YOU."
"Will we always be in the shadows, Doctor?" another asked.
Craven, slowly pulling his gaze from the young beauty, squinted his eyes in thought. "It's up to us." he reasoned, running a finger along his well trimmed beard. "Who will implore others to understand if not we?"
Algernon Craven, guru to some, ghoul to others raised his glass to the light. "To someday!"
"To someday!" came the unanimous reply.
The cheer and comradeship were still fresh when a pair of dumbwaiters crowded with serving trays, platters, bowls and dishes were rolled into the room.
"And now my fellow cannibals," Algernon Craven offered, lifting a gleaming domed cover and waving the magical aroma to his aristocratic nose, "bon appetit."