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The boss flips over a whiteboard with the word “Piles” written on it.
BOSS: The future… is piles! People like piles! Big old piles. That’s what they want in a food. Sometimes they like bread, so let’s get some bread and then make a pile in the middle. You know, like, a big greasy burger, with some cheese piled in there and then like… um… turkey? like shaved smoked turkey? Is that weird? and then we’ll slop up some onions and some BBQ sauce? You know, get that pile real sloppy, right? And then um, cheese sauce? Like an Alfredo? or a wiz? Hollandaise? Is that crazy? That’s more cream based but you get the idea. And then um… um… a sloppy old messy glop of pureed tomatoes. Reeeeal salty tomatoes. And then can we do like, um… don’t interrupt me I got this. Carne asada? Am I saying that right, Jose? Is that racist of me to only ask you? Sorry. Everyone, am I pronouncing— OOH FUCK hot dogs! Let’s slice up three hotdogs down the middle and lay them on the top there and then some runny old sauerkraut and um… pickles and fuckin’ ketchup and mustard and we’ll shoot it with a mayo gun. And we’ll call it: The Fat Fuckin’ Carl!
BOSS: And then we’ll fuck it!
BOSS: You know, or just, sell it to people so they can eat it…
He backs away slowly towards the window and jumps out, to his death.