While living in Moscow some years back, my brother and I would often go to Applebee's for their late-night appetizers when I got off work (usually starving) from Hastings. One evening we were sitting there, eating our appetizers (half-off, yo! we were cheap!) and the manager came up to us carrying a basket of fries. Drew and I exchanged uncertain glances, and looked at the manager, who said: "I heard about these fries. I'm really sorry. The ones you had were the very last of the bunch and they should never have been served. I apologize. Here's a fresh basket, on us." He dropped it off and took the other basket away. Drew looked at me and shrugged before chowing down on the new basket of fries, and said, "Funny, I didn't notice anything wrong with them! A little stale, but...I didn't even complain. How did he 'hear' about them?" Did we get someone else's fries? Was the waiter the reason we got them? Who knows. It became an awesome running joke. Thereafter, if anything on the table looked sketchy, a serious look would follow and a quiet, "I heard about them fries."