"Hey, Charlie," he called out in the direction of the two men sweeping up. "Who do I get to sign off on these here birds?"

"Go get Chin-Ho," one of the men said to the other in Cantonese. "Tell him the dirty chicken man is here." Turning back to the driver, the man smiled, "Nice truck."

"Piece a’ shit if ya ask me."

"Very big. How much it weigh?"

The driver called out to his partner still in the cab. "What do ya think Chris? How much this hunk a’ metal weigh?"

Chin-Ho stepped out of the door to hear Chris’s estimate. "Ten tons."

"Not net," the driver insisted.

Chin-Ho leapt towards the driver, tears of joy suddenly streaming down his face, elation in his heart.

The driver froze in his tracks as he watched the crazy chef charge him, butcher knife in hand. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights; he knew he was a goner. The chef tackled him and began laughing demonically.