As I was walking down a lane, I visited a popular restaurant and rang the bell.

"Excuse me, good sir," I said to the man. "I would like a french fry."

The man stared at me for a moment, a dull and vacant look in his eyes, then stumbled away. A few
moments later he returned with the newspaper carrying my order. I received the paper, but, to my
horror, there was nothing but a single pallid strip of potato.

"What is this?" I inquired, quite perplexed.

The man stared at the single french fry and mumbled. "You asked for a fry."

I rolled my eyes and swallowed the potato. "I meant a conglomeration of french fries. A group
contained in a single cup."

The man slowly nodded and turned to leave.

"While your back there," I called. "Bring me a soda. With cherry!" I added, at the last second.

A few moments later, the man returned with my container of fried potatoes and my soda. I stared into
the cup. It was brimming with tiny, red fruit.

"What is this?"

"Soda, with cherry."

I can quite frankly tell you that I stood there for a full twenty seconds in complete shock. "Soda with
cherry. Cherry, and a--" I braced myself against the counter. "A soda with cherry contains a single shot of
cherry-flavored liquid. If I had asked you for a real cherry--" My voice had quite grown in volume near
the end of my statement. "Then, I would have bloody well asked you for an actual cherry!"
 After the man retreated for a second time, I turned my back on the kitchen, stewing on my
predicament. I noticed a man sitting at one of the tables, eyes unfocused and glazed. He looked quite
unsettled.

"I say," I said, "have they gotten your order wrong as well?"

The man raised his head, and then he spoke with a tremor in his voice. "I ordered a-head."