Heath stir-fried the rice in his wok, then glanced beside him. Charmeleon was so busy he was practically about to evolve into Arcanine. The line in front of him was much longer than Heath's, and Heath frequently had to go over and remind Charmeleon what flavor of hot dog to make for each customer. It was a real pain. Meanwhile, the endearingly sweet Snorlax was also popular with the customers, and his shaved ice was almost sold out. Heath sighed. His station had the fewest customers.
"What's going on? I wonder whether the customers Charmeleon and Snorlax serve will count toward my total." Heath handed the fried rice he had finished to the man in front of him, then watched him carry it to the back of Snorlax's line. Good grief, eating something icy after something hot-wasn't he worried about getting diarrhea?
It was already afternoon, but Heath noticed that most of the customers who had come to eat today had gone to line up at Charmeleon's and Snorlax's stations. Very few lined up at his, which left him a little dejected. After all, he was supposed to be the actual head chef, yet the hot dogs and shaved ice had stolen his thunder. Still, remembering that they were all his Pokémon, Heath calmed down.
What troubled Heath now was whether the customers Snorlax and Charmeleon served would count toward his total. If not, he felt the reward might shrink considerably. The problem was that even after he asked, his lousy system gave no response. Heath was helpless, too. His Golden Finger seemed to be nothing more than an unfeeling task-issuing machine and had never taken the initiative to communicate with him. All he could do was wait patiently, full of apprehension, until business ended.
Soon, Heath closed for the