little diner. The sign in the window said,
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Andy didn't know what French fries were, but he decided to find out. Stepping inside, Andy was greeted by the delicious smell of food and a swarthy-faced proprietor. The place was empty except for a surly-looking man back in the corner.
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"Howdy," the owner addressed Andy. "What can I get you?"
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"Hi," Andy responded. "I'd like a hamburger, some fries, and a glass of water."
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"How you want that hamburg done?"
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"You tryin' to be sassy?"
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"No," said Andy. He didn't know what this fellow meant. Andy had never been in a restaurant before, and he was used to eating things as they came.
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"Well, how do you want it: well, medium, or rare?"
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Figuring he might as well get his money's worth, Andy replied, "All three."
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Taking Andy by the shirt collar, the man shook him and barked, "I'm not askin' again. Either you tell me how you want it, or I'll get Lefty here to throw you out in the street."
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"Well," Andy blurted out.
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"That's more like it. Now sit down and stay put until I get your food ready."
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The irate cook didn't know that Andy was going to
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