“Ah, so it’s all about the prestige of the dish!” thought Henri.  “Then all is not lost!  I may have a veritable nuclear option here — the ultimate dish HE CAN’T REFUSE!”

“Read your contract, loser,” snarled his boss.  “There is an exclusivity clause that forbids your working for anyone else for five years.”

“If you ever thought about anyone but yourself, Henri, you would realize I have the Triumph family reputation to maintain.  Triumph Enterprises must project an aura in every respect of absolute luxe.  Sure, I pose with hamburgers to fool the voting proles.  But the right people must always see me at the very pinnacle of the food chain, eating food no one else can even dream of eating.  So it’s business.  Nothing personal.”

“Quel bouleversement!” ejaculated Henri in his native tongue, shocked to be sacked on such short notice.

He could not believe this was happening, after years of faithful service, and considering his perfection of gastronomic esoterica.  What was he to do?

15

The disaster’s assets and liabilities taken care of, Mr.Triumph focused his executive attention on cleaning up minor details –  like HR.

“No more aardvarks, Henri,” he announced.  “So no more Henri.  You’re fired!!“

14

As an astute mega-mogul, Mr. T. instinctively moved on without delay to step 2:  dump liabilities onto someone else.

“Hmmm….” he mused.  “How can I unload that poisoned aardvark meat?…..  Let’s see….yeah, foist it off as steaks under my premium ‘Triumph Steaks’ brand… and feature their exclusive mystery ingredient! ”

13

This shock immediately mobilized the mercantile mind of the mogul Mr. T. Without thinking, he greedily grabbed the first asset in sight – the carcass of the last edible aardvark – and tore into it tooth and nail, slurping, grunting, and emitting sounds like “mine” and “all mine“.

The serving staff was agog!  Normally they would see such behavior as bestial and vulgar.  But in someone with the net worth of Mr. Triumph, it quite correctly came across as alpha male, and only showed his superiority and masculine vigor.

12

Devastating news!  Every last aardvark is dead!

“WHAT!?!” screams Triumph, “HOW?!…mercury poisoning?… a mercury mine upstream…I’ll sue the balls off them!! …HUH,  I do?  I thought I sold that mine last year!”

11

Before settling down to a feast befitting his financial status, Mr. Triumph is interrupted by an exigent marimba jingle emanating from his iPhone.

“Pour the Lafitte Rothschild, sweetheart.  This will only take a sec!”

10

“Smells fantastic, Henri.  You’re a terrific asset, believe me.” intoned Mr. T. in his most oleaginous confidential voice.  He was about to add “Speaking of terrific assets…”,  when suddenly his phone began jangling an insistent marimba ditty!

9

“Yes, a dish for me and me alone, ” crowed Mr. Triumph.  “I own every single aardvark on earth!”