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July 7, 2005
By Tessa McGarvey

On a clowdy evening in Paris three stunning young ladies walk into a restaurant.

The ladies are foreign but one would mistake them for Parisians in a second because of their demeanor, light and carefree and exuding romance, their fashion, exhibiting gentle flowing skirts and sparkles of silver, and their beauty, lit up inside their delicious skin and hair and radiating out at any observer's eye like a beckoning sunrise.

The three ladies sit down at a table and order. One orders the duck, one the tuna and one the steak. The lady who orders the steak, who is the most beautiful of them all, is actually a vegetarian, and has been for six years, but is curious to try French cooking, and so says to herself "when in Rome" and goes for it.

However, "going for it" means ordering some kind of steak in French, a language she does not speak, and tragically ends up with a pile of cold red blood and flesh on a plate in front of her. Upon asking her waiter she finds out that what! she has ordered, tartar steak, is raw steak. The young lady's friends laugh fiendishly at her.