Red Gate Highway
There were rats in the soufflé again.
Lucky Wong shook his head in disgust. Serving a soufflé in a Chinese restaurant was a travesty. Of course, he had known this place wasn’t right when he had been given a fork but no chopsticks.
He slipped the handle of his fork under a little cooked rat and aimed the utensil at an angle. When he pounded his fist down on the tines of the fork, the handle sprang up and flung the rat into the air, back over his right shoulder. Little bits of ripped soufflé splattered on the table. Without bothering to turn, he heard the rat slap against the wall behind him, then plop to the floor.
No one else in the roadside diner seemed to notice. Even his pal Medlo, a slightly heavy guy with a short, full brown beard, didn’t look up. Sitting across f
