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front jean pockets, and sweetened his voice to molasses, “is that we’ve created a homey, warm atmosphere where you can enjoy a nice time out with your family. And that’s what we care about most at Americo — family .
    “Anyhow, I won’t keep you longer, I know you’re all hungry, and itchin’ to try this food. You’re gonna love it, I guarantee it! So now I’ll turn y’all over to a man most of you know and love, Mr. Bob Cadger, President of BioTech Multinational. Thank you!”
    An upbeat music number started playing as the crowd clapped, but the word “itchin” made Zera remember her scratchy dress. She rubbed the back of her neck where the ruffled material irritated her skin the most. The audience applauded louder as Cadger changed places with Wrangler at the podium. Cadger now wore a top hat decorated with stars and stripes. Zera heard chuckles of admiration and a couple of comments about Cadger’s “sense of humor.”
    The microphone stand automatically adjusted itself to Cadger’s height. Cadger looked up at Wrangler. “Thanks, Chet.” 
    Cadger clapped along with the crowd as Wrangler took a seat. He then took the microphone from its stand, walked up to the edge of the stage and grinned. His audience, glassy-eyed with admiration, stood and clapped. Zera looked around and sighed. What do they see in this guy?
    “That’s a vintage microphone,” Tiffany said to Theodore, “I wonder why he’s using an old one, the kind with a cord?”
    Theodore shrugged. “Beats me.”
    “Wow, what an act to follow!” Cadger said. Holding onto the microphone’s cord, he dropped it down past the stage, nearly to the floor, then swung it back up in a long arc, catching it in his hand. 
      The audience went wild. Zera almost gagged. She’d seen a rock star from about fifty years ago do that once on a Home Theater concert and knew Bob Cadger was just copying him.
    “Isn’t this a great evening!” Cadger motioned for his audience to sit back down, all the while smiling, gee-whiz-boyishly and arrogantly at the same time. The music stopped. “When Americo approached us five years ago, they wanted to see what we could do in the arena of fast food. They knew of our work, our fantastic successes in the field of genetic modification. They knew that in less than six years, we’d grown from a very small company into a multinational corporation .”
    Tiffany said, “And they couldn’t have done any of it without you, Theodore.”
    The Toad grinned and looked around expectantly, as if he were ready to be called to the stage himself.
    “I am proud ,” Cadger said. “We are a team of winners . I want to thank Mr. Wrangler and Americo, but I especially want to thank all of you .”
    Several minutes later, and without any mention of her uncle, Bob Cadger received a standing ovation — and for a moment, seeing her uncle’s disappointment, Zera forgot all about her birthday.
     
    * * *
     
    Zera winced as The Toad slurped his chocolate shake from its crystal tumbler; it sounded like sludge being sucked down a drain. When they sat down she saw that his hair, combed neatly when they arrived, had begun reverting to its usual messed-up state. His cowlick had returned and two patches of hair stuck up in opposite directions at the back of his head. No one had spoken a word during the meal. A few people from the lab had visited their table to compliment her uncle on the Beefy Fries, but The Toad only nodded in return, his expression grim. 
    Harv Headstrom walked up, carrying a plate. Between mouthfuls of fries he said, “Wow, Theo, these are so good! They taste exactly like steak and potatoes!” He licked his lips, raised his caterpillar eyebrows. “It was weird, though, that Cadger didn’t single you out for all your work.” 
    Theodore gave Harv a frosty look and no reply as Harv stood in silence for a few awkward seconds. Zera again noticed the reflective quality of his balding head and looked away quickly. Harv