The waiter came to Simon’s table with a plate of bread.
“What can I get for you this evening?” the waiter asked.
Simon held the small, thin razor up towards his face and said solemnly, “You can get me an ambulance.”
The waiter let out an awkward laugh, but it no longer became funny when Simon slowly opened his mouth and dropped the razor inside. Simon made cold, passionless eye contact with the waiter as he chomped down as hard as he could on the blade. Blood came shooting out from between his teeth. A corner of the razor poked out of his left cheek nearly puncturing the skin. The waiter screamed and took several frantic steps back until he fell flat on the floor. All eyes were turned towards Simon who was making horrifying sounds of pain as he gnawed on the blade. Blood began to slowly dribble out of his mouth and onto his lap and a single tooth made a creepy ticking sound with each grinding crunch that felt like finger nails on the chalk board to Simon’s ears. If this didn’t get him a movie deal, Simon thought, nothing will.