Some Time On Earth (Or Something Like Earth)

Saturday, April 09, 2005

Most of this really happened, so watch out carrotheads...

Some carrothead at a restaurant yesterday was unhappy. The waiters were attentive. The maitr'de was attentive. Even the chef who usually is shut up in the kitchen is attentive. But carrothead was unhappy. Why was carrothead unhappy? Because one waittress served me my requested guacamole and sour cream first before he was served his long island ice tea. So he bellyached. He roared. He carried on like a rageful two year old child. The waittress tried to placate the carrothead. The maitr'de tried to placate the carrothead. The bartender made the carrothead another long island ice tea tout suit and told the carrothead it was on the house. But carrothead would not be happy. He had to bellow out to everyone within earshot that this was the worse restaurant in the universe and this was the worse service he has ever received. He kept bellowing this continuously, over and over like it he was a belligerant ball park announcer disputing an overtly obvious fair call by the umpire to the wonderment of both teams, their captains, their managers and the enitre ballpark audience. He was an asshole. And my dining companioin, bless her heart, told this carrothead what she thought. She told him what she thought about the the restaurant and its staff. She told him what she thought about the food and the service. And she told him what he thought about him, precisely. Did that stop Herr Carrothead from complaining? Not in the least. He still carried on. And now he complained about the customers. So the staff said, in chorus, "GET THE FUCK OUT!" And the manager and owner came out and said, "GET THE FUCK OUT!" And all the customers in the restaurant stood up and said, "GET THE FUCK OUT!" He got the message. He got the fuck out. And we all went about our business until he came back with a gun. So I killed him. He never saw it coming and it was humane. We tore off all his clothes and FedExed them and other personal effects to the address we found in his wallet. The chef cleaned and prepared him. And we all ate as much of himas we could stomach. And served the leftovers to bums, squirrels, birds, dogs, cats, worms and insects. The bones were ground up and used as fertilizer. His family called and thanked us for disposing of this carrothead today. That made us feel good like we had done something extraordinarily useful.


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