Waiter, Waiter

Like many menus, this menu has a key for spiciness.
More peppers, spicier dish.
It ranges from one to five peppers, but there’s no five-pepper dishes listed.
I ask the waiter, and he turns the menu to the last page.
It’s been torn out.
“Too dangerous,” he mutters. “Chef removed.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said. “Bring me something from that list.”
The kitchen fills with shouting, pots and pans thrown around.
Ten minutes later, the waiter comes out in Hazmat gear, holding a steaming plate of bubbling orange goop.
I ask him what wine goes with it.
He faints.