When Marty got to work, his boss awaited him outside the Frying Nemo to tell him that he wanted to retire and close the fish and chip restaurant in a few weeks.
Marty was shocked “But you’ve promised to promote me as a vegetable slicer, Mr Lutzenbacher!”
“Listen, son,” the old man replied, “my feckless children don’t vant to continue ze business but vaste zeir time viz pipe dreams about getting rich by dog breeding and haircutting! But if you’re interested I could sell you ze Frying Nemo at a preferential price.”
Marty couldn’t believe his ears when he heard Lutzenbacher’s exaggerated claim for the greasy fish stall.
"60.000 §?” Marty complained. “Where’s the bargain in that extortionist price?”
“Take it or leave it, son,” the decrepit oldster grinned, “it’s a top-notch area for a restaurant like zis, and potential buyers are panting for it. I give you ‘til Snowflake Day to decide.”