It was a monstrosity. Ten inches of solid, low-grade knobby pine (the Army had a tight budget, after all), one half cup of processed cheese product (actual cheese content: 1%), and about what must have been a pint of pure, unadulterated grease of some unknown origin.

I swallowed. Not the thing on the styrofoam plate, but the snort of disbelief that was fighting to get out of my throat. The little old Chinese lady behind the counter blinked at me in puzzlement, shedding little flakes of emerald-green eyeshadow. "Steak-and-egg?" she asked, concerned. "No mushroom?" She pointed down the chow line, past the gossiping DoD civilians and the cluster of lieutenant colonels at the salad bar to the white board with the daily specials.

Sure enough, there it was, under the curiously captioned "Entrees". Entree #1: Stake and Cheese.

After two months in a hell of dim office workers and poorly assembled cubicles dating from the eighties, I had taken the menu for another typo to be glanced at and then ignored for the sake of the inner editor. You learn to ignore the rampant stupidity after a while, but this time? No such luck.

I looked at the stake and its topping of theoretical cheese. My stomach cringed.

"Stake and cheese, yes?"

Yes. It was that. Well, maybe not the cheese part...

"I, er, was expecting, y'know. Meat."

"No, no! Entree #1, Stake and Cheese. You no want? We replace, free of charge! Have new International Specials on grill, English, very good!"

I passed the pointy wooden object with plate to the woman, still in a state of faint shock.

"Fine, let's try the toad in the hole..."