Bob, you are supposed to be helping me get the chickens ready for the Barbeque on the Fourth. Ever since they sent Elian back to Cuba, all the help around here has been in a snit and refuse to chop the heads off or even pluck the chickens. It's not like they have green cards or something and can legally complain. So get your butt over here to Turkey Hill and bring a couple of Ryley's axes. Do a good job at this and I'll let you be bartender for my important guests. Otherwise, you'll be washing dishes again.