Bottles pursues Tanktop out of the dining areas. They enter the butlerís pantry as one and the old man feels a tug on his robe as they cross the threshold.

Mr. Tanktop. My companions are a bit difficult, but one becomesÖaccustomed.

You look like a man with something marginally interesting to say, bottles, so letís have it.

Why would there be alligators on the roof. It seems a bit odd.

Thatís not the issue.

Alligators arenít the issue?

No, the origin of the alligators is not the issue.

Are the alligators actually on the roof?

In a very real sense, yes. The notion of their presence is more important than their actual presence.

Iím not afraid of notions of alligators, unless they have learned to bite.

The notions?

Yes, biting. Unless they do.

Oh, they do, I assure you. Conceptually. The notions are part of a perceived threat of being bitten by alligators.

(cries in the distance. The diners are calling for a quorum)

Bottles, do come back. The mousse has arrived.

Mark my words, Tanktop. Those birds are loud as the dickens.