"Would you like an antidote with that?"
           Howard Duckly glanced up from his coffee at the tall, bored-looking waiter. "Excuse me?"
           "An antidote," the creamy-feathered Avian repeated. "To the poison in your coffee."
           "Look, if this is some crap about how coffee is bad for me--" Howard started irritably.
           "I won't argue that the stuff will lead you to an early grave, but I drink it myself so I can't really talk." The man shifted, looking annoyed behind his bored expression. A nametag proclaimed him to be "Reive." "I'm just asking if you want the antidote to the poison I put in your coffee."
           Howard froze mid-swallow, almost choking before discreetly spitting the coffee back into his cup. "You...put poison..."
           "In your coffee. Yes. You're catching on now," Reive said with mild sarcasm.
           "Is this some sort of joke?!"
           "No, sir, that tie is a joke." Reive gestured to the pea-green-with-giant-neon-blue-paisleys tie hanging from Howard's neck. "And a bad one, at that. This is dead serious."
           Howard noticed that the waiter looked dead serious. His matter-of-fact tone helped the impression. "So...you poisoned my coffee?"
           "I think we've established that, yes," Reive deadpanned.
           "Why?"
           "Nothing personal," Reive assured him nonchalantly. "It's just that people are notoriously bad tippers. And since I'd like to make it through college without having to sell any vital organs, I thought I'd encourage a little more generosity in my customers."
           "By poisoning them," Howard said faintly.
           "Self-preservation is an excellent motivator."
           Howard stared up at his supposed poisoner, looking for any traces of humor in the bored expression. A bit of exasperation was starting to peek through, but that was all.
           "Look, I have other tables to wait on," Reive said suddenly. "I'll let you think about it. Don't worry about drinking your coffee, you can't get any more poisoned. I suppose you could think of it as a last meal, if you want." He turned to leave and added, "You might want to think fast when the chills start. It's all downhill from there."
           Staring after the man, Howard suddenly wondered if the air-conditioner had been turned up. He rubbed distractedly at the goosebumps on his arms and finished off his coffee. Was it colder, he wondered, shivering. Yes, there was a definite drop in temperature, he was sure of it. "...when the chills start. It's all downhill from there..."
           Howard gestured frantically to the waiter as he passed. Raising an eyebrow as he approached, Reive asked, "Yes?"
           "Er, yes."
           "Yes?"
           "Yes," Howard said hurriedly. "I've...thought about it and I've decided I'd like to take you up on your offer."
           "So how much is your life worth?" Reive asked casually.
           "Um...a dollar?"
           "I'm going for a doctorate, you know."
           Howard grimaced. "Five?"
           "Room and board isn't exactly cheap."
           "Ten!" Howard said desperately, holding up the crumpled bill.
           "What a worthless life," Reive remarked, taking it. "Oh well, I guess it'll do. Refill?"
           Howard stared at him.
           Reive held up the coffee pot he had been carrying, motioning encouragingly with it.
           "Is that..." Howard asked.
           "Yes." Reive looked at him expectantly. "Refill?"
           "Oh. Yes, please." Howard pushed his empty cup across the table toward the man. As Reive poured, Howard glanced at the table he had just left. "Er, isn't that the same pot you used over..." He gestured.
           "Of course. You didn't think you were going to be the only generous tipper today, did you?" The bored expression momentarily lifted as Reive smirked at him. "Have a nice day." With that, he turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
           Unable to shake the feeling that the waiter knew something he didn't, Howard shivered again and began gulping down the coffee.
           In the kitchen, Reive leaned against a wall as he reached into his apron pocket and began counting his tips. People, he reflected smugly, generally made up for their cheapness with their gullibility.