Guttle That Egg Toffee
Egg toffee? How can you even think about suggesting that I eat something like that? I ought to cast you out from my kitchen faster than you can snap your fingers and say “Egg toffee is not what I meant to say, I meant to say ‘blowtorched egg toffee crackers.’”
And even if you did say that before I was able to cast you out, I still would not stop the already-begun process of casting you out. That’s because once I start something, I’m obligated to finish it. Such is the code of The Finishers, and I’m not about to start disobeying that code now.
Now, if you said that you used to make egg toffee every day when you were a master chef, and your customers always guttled it down faster than you could snap your fingers and say “Hang on, I haven’t even gotten the blowtorch out yet!” then I might reconsider.
Well, first I’d get out the dictionary and look up the word ‘guttle,’ but after that I’d probably think that you were obviously a talented chef whose egg toffee recipes were the envy of every other chef in the country. And then I might sit down at my kitchen table, grab my utensils greedily, and prepare to guttle some of that world-famous egg toffee. I might even like it.
But since you haven’t said anything yet, I’m going to assume that none of those scenarios are the truth. And therefore you will be shunned from my kitchen for all eternity. You will curse and cry and gnash your teeth, but my kitchen door shall never again be reopened to you. Egg toffee. I spit at the very notion.