The deli butcher went berserk last night kicking over shelves of escargot; rigadoon across the cheeses a polka among apricots ersatz waltz with the waitress (whom he’d secretly loved). For an encore he chose softshoe on the counter top and sang to the terrified wench: “Come with me and taste the town!” as he danced atop beef tongue and liver “My meat is much sweeter than these!”