Another misadventure...

Bored and come to vist me again? I appreciate that. Well, since you're here I'd better regail you with a strange tale from the annals of my misadventures. A few years ago I was a waiter, a culinary recommendation specialist if you will. You won't? I understand. Early in a shift one evening I arrived at one of my tables to find a polite middle aged couple in the mood for some vittles. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary, that is, until the fairer component of the duo proceeded to make a request, a request for plastic utensils. Why? She requested plastic utensils because she was allergic to metal, so allergic in fact that any contact could kill her. Of course, after she said that I did exactly what you would have done; I hit her with a barrage of questions. I gathered that the lady wore gloves to protect her hands, drove a custom car that was devoid of metal and lived in a house with not a single alloy to offend her. Nothing too strange, right? Just a lady who sat in a long black trench coat, wore white gloves and humbly requested a dining experience sans metal. Who cares that she reminded me of a comic book super villain? Just a normal person with a peculiar ailment right? Wrong. Here's were it got just plain weird. When it was time to deal with the damage the woman paid me in brand new, crisp and clean $2 bills. That's a true story.