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Mitch spent the better part of a day trying to come up with a clever name for his new catering outfit. Eventually, he just gave up and went with this name. He spent the rest of that day finding a storefront. He found possibly the best location around, across the street from Rear Entrance Funnel Cakes. Location is very important. His shop now had a desk and a filing cabinet. From here he ordered a ton of catering equipment and some classy signage. He also made some called to his restaraunt collegues and picked up some employees. His catering company was off to a good start.

And there was this sound, a loud and repetitive chime or bell that awoke him from his sleep. It was so familiar to Mitch but he had never heard it at this store. He wondered for a few seconds as the sound rang in his ear like a phone that nobody will pick up. As he constructed this simile, he figured out that it was moot; for there was no need for figurative speech. It was the phone, actually ringing, and even though he had figured this out, he wasted a lot of time on this reflection.

His training, for as far back as he can remember, was in customer service and professionalism. Was it not a reflex, Mitch would have answered the phone like a common brute. But instead, he returned to the solid footing of professionalism and said, “Catering by Mitch. Mitch speaking. How can I help you?”

In the middle of his conversation with Catherine, Mitch heard the muffled voice of Josh. It sounded like, "A tesion a tension this is asprin tasty Heinie help eat popcorn in a tree four twenty-nine."

It didn't make a lick of sense. Mitch paused, trying to figure out if he was crazy, and he had the strangest feeling that Catherine was reading his mind.

Mitch shouted into a gaping hole in the wall, "Josh, Pasty?" He was still wondering how Josh could fit into his wall. Then again, there were lots of things he wondered about Josh.

Right now, Mitch wondered where he was. While he looked around the hole in the wall, he heard more sound come from the communicator, which he then extracted from a pile of drywall within the wall.

This isn't typical Mitch behavior. Or at least, Mitch doesn't think so. But one can recall a time in the park where he thought he saw someone who wasn't there. There was also that time when he acted nervous around Cait. Even a few days ago, Mitch became confused and started catering at a military press conference. Here he was, standing in front of a wall that he just demolished thinking that Captain Pasty was trapped in the wall of his new catering outfit.

Mitch needed to get a grip. "Get a grip on yourself," he muttered, not realizing that he was holding the communicator's Push-to-Talk button down.

Mitch returned from the hardware store with a couple of “Help Wanted” signs and a black eye. At nearly the same time, Mitch had been faced with new business prospects and gruff “home security…salesman.” The black eye was Mitch’s response to the salesman’s pitch-er…punch. The signs were subtle calls for a hero to come and rescue him, but would most likely be misinterpreted as an advertisement for an open position at his catering outfit. He put one of the signs in the window and then slapped a prime rib on his eye.