=The Oasis Diner=

I was having a late lunch at a very exclusive restaurant in the desert. It was one of those places so exclusive you'd never know it was even there. They didn't advertise. You practically had to stumble upon it by accident, like a mirage.  Even my dining companion was imaginary, vanishing shortly after we were seated. I looked around. On every side of us the lone and level sands stretched away as far as the eye could see. Just like in the poem. Tables were brought out as they were needed. It must have been a slow day at a slow hour. The only other patron in the place was Death and he was eating alone. He nodded, companionably, in my direction. 

The head chef had personally come out of the kitchen to take my order, a nice touch, I thought, but intimidating. He looked down imperiously, fingertips propped on the table. 

"Perhaps the lion?"

I said this experimentally, just throwing the idea out there, like a roll of dice. I really had no idea how one should order in such a place. I was out of my element. 

"At this restaurant," the head chef said, "One orders by the stampede. Prices depend on how many animals you order in your stampede." 

I thought this funny and was about to say so, but the head chef‘s demeanor made it clear it was no joke. He carried himself with all the deadly serious of a man who wields a spatula. Soon I understood why. 

It turned out that a diner had very nearly choked to death while eating the lion only the day before. Tragedy was averted by none other than Death Himself, whose quick-thinking and effective application of the Heimlich had saved the man's life just as he was turning the fatal shade of a desert sunset. 

That lucky diner's identity? 

My vanished luncheon companion, of course!