So I went out to eat the other night...by myself (shocking). I wanted to finish my book without interruptions (chocolate-dipped cheese cake for the mind, the "Twilight" series, if you don't know…don't ask, you're better off left in the dark). I would have been just as happy curled up on some moderately clean surface at home, but that's not an option…if the chief underwear washer is home; then by-golly, by-jiminy she had better be a'washin' something. (I work for short, cruel task-masters)
Anywho, I was completely absorbed in my book and lemon rice soup. I became aware on the fringes of my consciousness of a family sitting (I use this verb loosely) to my right. Then I was given no choice but to notice them when one of their bobble-headed children poked me on the arm on his way to the restroom. It took me by surprise (one does not think one will be accosted while eating soup), and I looked up to find a little pie-faced kid staring at me with a malicious grin. Sure I could have been projecting, I was reading a book about vampires, but I don't think so. "Okay kid", I thought, "I'm feeling charitable today. I will ignore your creepiness in favor of reading my book. Now scamper off and pee on the bathroom floor like I'm sure you do at home."
It soon became clear to me...this was not a "family" to be ignored. This was the kind of "family" that clears out restaurants and movie theaters. The kind of "family" that drives up to your house for a visit…and you lock all the doors and hang garlic and crosses around your neck. These little dears were so vile, so defectively behaved…I can't even spit/type out any description that can even come close to capturing their putrescence. To make the state of affairs even more painful, their parents were devoid of anything even remotely resembling a spinal column. I mean, we've all seen parents that kind of...well…stink on ice (and we probably are those parents occasionally. I mean not me, of course, but…), but these two took it to the level of freak show performance art: Come One, Come All!!! See with Your Own Eyes…the Amazingly, Dim-witted Parents Made Entirely of Grape Jelly, Teeth and Hair (excitement swells through the restaurant, and the crowd roars).
These two gelatinous mounds had zilcho by way of control on those two pint-sized chupacabras. They "begged" them to sit in the booth with them and wait for their food (in the restaurant's defense, it's hard to scare up a live sacrifice on short notice). They "pleaded" with them to not pretend to stab people with the Coney Island cutlery. They all but offered them blood money to stop running around the tables. I, of course, being the non-judgmental soul that I am, said nothing and continued to read (Yes…the books are that good). Finally, the kitchen staff produced whatever it is that demon seeds eat. These two smallish people informed their parents that they would not sit with them, and proceeded to plop down at yet another table even closer to me…why...why...why?
At this point, my Andi-O-Meter was tick, tick, ticking away; counting down the milliseconds to detonation. BUT I WAS TRUMPED!! Before I could even give my patented "I will stuff you in a small, dirty box in the back of my closet" look, Diablo One made a face and started yelling at the top of his lungs, "EWWWW, something smells….Oh, it's just her!!"…yep you guessed it...he was standing on his chair and pointing at me. There are moments in life when no reaction seems perfectly appropriate. There is not one action or word that comes to mind that will move you past the moment you are living in. This was just such a time. I just started to nod my head (I think a part of me always knew this day would come) and looked squinty eyed at the "Jello-Jigglers" parents. Their heads took on voodoo shrunken head proportions as they slumped down in their seats . The "mom" (I feel dirty even using this here) just sat there with her jaw unhinged (come on…was she really that surprised). She looked at me, while the "dad" kept his eyes firmly planted on his fish and chips, (which, FYI, is what that stench was…you little monster!!) and mumbled something about…"Oh, no, no, Barnaby (or some equally pretentious name), that must be the food your smelling". I can tell you what I was smelling…a couple of REEKINGLY HORRIFIC PARENTAL UNITS & THEIR FESTERINGLY ROTTEN CHILDREN!!!
The rest of their time in the restaurant was anti-climatic. The little fiends dug into their "chicken strips" (though I still suspect it was actually something more sinister) and left within 10 minutes. I think their handlers saw the other patrons of the Coney Island fashioning pitchforks and torches out of forks and chicken shish-kebobs. I continued to read as they exited, but I still wasn't off the hook. The "mom" stopped at my table on the way out and said in her most convincing breathy voice, "I'm so sorry if the boys disrupted your reading…" Again…for the second time in one evening (let alone one lifetime) I was speechless…which was then followed by a sort of loud snort/laughy/raspberry-blowing thingy. "Yeah, sure", I say with as much sarcasm as possible when your drooling on yourself "no problem" (laugh, hiccup, snort...sigh).
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