their big day

"Hey Sylvester, get a load of table number three - The Nocturnal Retirement Party".
"They keep shoveling it away like that, Mr. Murchison, they'll have no room for jello".
"Buncha weasels. There's always room for jello. And imagine how they'll smell when they're finished".
"If they ever. All they have to do is make eye contact with Daryll, show their teeth, he starts shaking and loads up the plates with more".
"I thought the caller making the reservation sounded awful strange on the phone, Sylvester. Hissing. A lot of hissing". Mr. Murchison shuddered. "Does Daryll look pale green to you"?
"How do you think they'll cover the check"?
"Oh, Dear Lord, I never thought of that"!
"Weasels."

illustration by Helen Ward