He's essentially a meat and potato man, steak tartare, cheeseburgers, chops, not really a complicated guy. You just have to stay out of his way. The host is making faces at the audience again. I'm sorry for throwing you off your story. Please go on.
Guffaws roll out from the audience.
I stomp the floor with my bum leg. Damned if something didn't pop in my knee. I look back at the host just as he rubs the back of his head again. I'm about to continue my story when I notice these dumbshits in the back row making Toro signs at me - you know, the pinkie and first finger extended from a closed fist. The Italians call it 'Il Cornuta', the sign of the cuckold.