Grandma Tetrazzini's Noodle Heaven

Mr. I. M. Full plucked the bay leaf out of the red sea of spaghetti sauce on his plate and sighed. Blobs of yellow wax slid down the side of the candle in front of him and dripped onto the red checkered tablecloth. His quest for the perfect pasta to celebrate Eat Pasta Day had not been successful, and he had visited restaurants all over New York City. He did not know what to do about his newspaper column that was due tomorrow.

Mr. Full was a food critic, known for his sharp tongue that was never satisfied by the food he sampled. Mr. Full was a harsh critic. He never gave a perfect five-star review to any restaurant, and his visits were dreaded by chefs all over the city. Mr. Full was annoyed that his editor had asked him to recommend a restaurant to celebrate Eat Pasta Day. How ridiculous! Who could take pasta that seriously?

Mr. Full went out into the rain-drenched street and walked to his car. He drove home along streets that still bustled with activity. He decided to try a new route home to bring a bit of excitement to an otherwise disappointing day.

A bright sign on the corner of the street caught Mr. Full's eye. It was a magnificent bowl of spaghetti created from strings of yellow neon lights. Luminous red meatballs glowed on top of the neon noodles. The curly lettering said Grandma Tetrazzini's Noodle Heaven. Mr. Full was curious about the appetizing name. He had never heard of this restaurant during his many years as a food critic. He parked his car and walked to the door.

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