The words "Condiment King?" and "Really?" are still buzzing in your head as you arrive at the diner, which to your utter shock is actually... still clean. Normally, when Condiment King is involved, no surface is safe from his mustard gun. The short order cook meets you at the door.
"He storms the kitchen, marches me out at gunpoint, and barricades the doors. Says he won’t leave or give up our house burger sauce ’til you tell him some code, and anyone who peeps in the kitchen window gets pepper-sprayed. No rush, though; I get overtime for costumed capers."
Condiment King stares at you. "Sorry," he says. "This text is just...for flavor!"