Chapter 32

The restaurant manager looked at the fecal residue on the glass curtain wall, looked at the yellow soup that collapsed into the restaurant door, and looked at the various feces that covered the road outside the restaurant.

At this moment, he actually wanted to laugh!

But looking at Mr. Anderson's furious appearance, in the end, he didn't laugh.

He walked to Mr. Anderson's side; Mr. Anderson was actually busy—he was directing the apprentices to clean up.

Maybe it was the shit attack all morning that gave these apprentices a psychological resistance to shit; they actually didn't feel nauseous, and no one vomited.

Although they were very unwilling to do these things, they still put on gloves and started cleaning the fecal residue on the glass curtain wall.

This thing is actually not easy to clean.

If there was a scientist here at this time, he would definitely be able to explain why these fecal blocks and fecal residue would be so firmly stuck to the glass.

It was sprayed out like a bullet from the high pressure generated by the collision of the fecal tank falling, and slapped on the glass with a bang.

A small amount of water discharged the air between the fecal block and the glass the moment the fecal block hit the glass, allowing it to form a closed, similar negative pressure state.

At this time, if you want to remove it from the glass, just washing it with water doesn't necessarily wash it off; you have to reduce or remove this similar negative pressure state through external force to make it fall off.

And shit, this thing...

The more you wipe, the more there is.

Otherwise, there wouldn't be news that Federation people use a roll of paper to pull shit.

Mr. Anderson's face was black, and he kept scolding; I don't know if he was scolding the stupidity of the apprentices, or scolding the person who created the car accident, or those few people; maybe all of them.

"Mr. Anderson..."

Mr. Anderson scolded until there was some white saliva at the corners of his mouth; he turned around and wiped the corners of his mouth, "What's the matter?"

The manager looked at him very seriously, "You haven't realized yet that this is also their means?"

Mr. Anderson was stunned for a moment, "I considered it, but..."

"No one broke the law, Mr. Anderson.", the manager emphasized, "An accidental car accident, the insurance company will pay these bills; maybe fifty dollars is enough."

"But for us, we might have to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars to minimize the influence brought by this matter."

"It won't be long before the name 'Shit Restaurant' will definitely spread; by that time, we will definitely be greatly affected, and we don't know what we will face next."

The manager is very smart; otherwise, it would be impossible to make the restaurant's business improve quickly, so he knows better that this kind of confrontation is meaningless to the restaurant.

"Today it was a shit truck; what will it be tomorrow, and what will it be the day after tomorrow?"

"Please forgive me for not standing on your side on this issue, Mr. Anderson; if the person who lent you money doesn't intend to want this money anymore, and takes out some more money to retaliate against you like this."

"All the hard work you put into this restaurant will become a bubble."

"As long as you continue to do the business of opening the door to welcome guests, you will always be at a disadvantage in such a confrontation."

"We have all seen the other party's means, and I have also talked to you; if you can't solve this matter, I plan to resign after finishing this week."

Mr. Anderson wanted to say something, but opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

"I respect your decision, Mr. Anderson; I know you have your persistence; I can't change you, I can only change myself."

He squeezed out some smiles, patted Mr. Anderson on the arm, and then walked outside the door to direct the apprentices and waiters to clean up.

This matter cannot wait for the City Administration Bureau to arrange for people to clean it up; it must be done in the shortest possible time to make the street look not so bad.

The frantic photography of some reporters in the distance could not be stopped, so the manager never thought about chatting with them.

Mr. Anderson sat on the chair; he lit a cigarette and held his head.

He knew the manager was right; if it kept tossing like this, it wouldn't be long before no one would come to eat.

It's not just as simple as "targeting"; guests will also be afraid of trouble; who is willing to deal with gangs?

If because of coming to eat a meal, the car was smashed, or they were beaten, this is not worth it for people who can afford to eat a meal for twenty or thirty dollars!

Even if he sends out a bunch of nine-dollar-and-ninety-cent wine tickets, people won't come to take advantage of this.

But...

He turned his head and looked at the manager also rolling up his sleeves and joining the ranks of cleaning, watching him use a water pipe to wash the fecal residue in the lawn, watching everyone busy and sweating...

Suddenly, he seemed to have aged a few years at this moment, and even his waist, which had never been bent, became a bit hunched.

At this moment, he had already made a decision.

Just when he planned to prepare these funds, he suddenly heard footsteps; Lans walked in from the outside, looking disgusted, covering his mouth and nose.

Originally, Alberto also planned to come over; he wanted to see the old man bow his head in front of him with his own eyes, but Lans asked him to wait in the coffee shop.

The smell here is too heavy, and it will dirty his pair of leather shoes that cost more than one hundred dollars.

He doesn't care if the smell is heavy, but he really cares about his leather shoes, so he agreed to Lans's request.

Seeing Lans, even though Mr. Anderson made a compromise, he was still hot-blooded at this time, and stood up immediately.

Lans looked at his eyes wide open, wishing he could eat himself, and greeted him with a smile without any worry, "Mr. Anderson, it looks like you have encountered big trouble."

"You are the biggest trouble I have ever met!", he said, even walking over to grab Lans's collar, and raised his fist; the cigarette he spat out collided with Lans's chest, sparking some sparks.

The manager who rushed back from the outside hugged Mr. Anderson tightly; this old man's strength is really great, almost couldn't hold him.

While preventing Mr. Anderson from using force, he asked Lans to step back a few steps, but Lans didn't do that.

"You can hit me, Mr. Anderson, but have you considered what price you need to pay after you hit me here today?"

Lans looked at him calmly; this kind of threat was perhaps just the most insignificant one for his colorful life.

"I guarantee that your restaurant will close down, and not just the restaurant."

"You and your wife, your family, will not be able to survive in the Federation because you hit me."

"You can think I'm joking with you, or you can think this is me being tough and saying some scary harsh words; you can try it completely."

"Maybe the next time the water level of Angel Lake rises, it will have something to do with you and your family."

He stood there, not even meaning to hide, and even his eyes became completely different from before.

Every time Lans appeared in front of him before, including just now, he had a kind of... playful, unserious feeling, just like a stinky bug very common on the street.

Cheap, humble, disgusting.

But when his eyes changed, they gave people a kind of indescribable, heartfelt fear, as if what he said was true.

The raised fist was finally put down; the manager kept saying some good words with a smile.

Lans tidied up his collar and flicked the ash on his chest.

The cigarette butt left a black spot on the clothes; it looked like the fabric was burnt; this piece of clothing had to be changed.

"Originally I wanted to talk to you properly, but you obviously didn't have this realization."

"Mr. Anderson, this is the last ultimatum I give you; the games in these few days, I just want you to realize one point."

"You don't have the ability to bear all these consequences, but we do."

"If you still don't wake up, then the things that happen next might be what we don't want to see, and it won't be handled by me again."

The manager said some accommodating words, "Mr. Anderson has talked to me; he is willing to repay all the money with principal and interest, but we are a bit tight on hand now."

Lans smiled half-heartedly, "Everyone is an adult, knowing what should be done and what should not be done."

"Mr. Koti reached out a hand to you when you needed help, but you failed his kindness."

"Prepare the money, and then call him to apologize to him, and everything will return to normal."

"If you don't do this, you will also get a period of peace, but I guarantee that this is just the last peace!"

He said, the serious expressions on his face were replaced by a kind of relaxation, and a smile that people couldn't figure out appeared on his face, "Okay, I've said everything I should say; it's too smelly here, I have to go."

"You broke my clothes; I will send you a bill in two days; I hope you check your mailbox."

Without giving the manager a chance to retain him, Lans left directly.

When he returned to the coffee shop, he told Alberto what happened; the latter was so excited that he couldn't sit still, stood up and walked back and forth, "Said very well, Lans, why don't you come to help me!"

This was his first formal invitation for Lans to work for him; these jobs were done too beautifully!

Not breaking the law, and the cost is not high; compared to five thousand dollars, even if he takes out three thousand dollars, and can get the principal back, he doesn't feel it's a loss.

But in fact, he has only spent less than five hundred dollars so far; even if he has to give Lans five hundred dollars later, this is less than one thousand dollars; he still has a profit of two thousand dollars.

The key is, it's relieving!

For someone who can take out two hundred thousand to lend out, the business of five thousand dollars is not important; what is important is whether his anger is smooth.

Now, his anger is smooth; the more he looks, the more he feels Lans is pleasing to the eye; he wants Lans to work for him.

But obviously, Lans will not agree.

"Let's talk about it after a while; I haven't considered what to do in the future yet."

Alberto knew this was a refusal, but it took care of each other's decency; he didn't blame or feel Lans was bad, just hugged him, "I respect your decision, Lans."

Lans also gave him what he wanted, "At the latest tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Anderson will call you, apologize to you, and beg for your forgiveness..."