Adam Pendelton was desperate. His long-established restaurant, The Burger Barn, was losing the gentrification war. Across the street, a hyper-trendy always-busy establishment called L’Écume des Jours was charging $75 for a single foam-covered asparagus spear.

Adam looked at his greasy flat-top grill, then at his bank statement, then at his sparsely-populated dining room, and made an executive decision.

By Thursday morning, The Burger Barn was dead. In its place stood La Maison de la Friture. Adam, now calling himself Alphonse, had traded his grease-stained apron for a tight silk ascot. He dimmed the harsh fluorescent lights until the dining room was practically pitch-black, lit only by a few flickering tealight candles. New menus were printed in an elegant cursive font that was almost completely illegible.

His first victim was old Gary, a regular who had eaten a double cheeseburger every day for a decade. Gary squinted through the........

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