Chairmeat, Sir?

Marzeus von Hemelen By Marzeus von Hemelen, 26th Oct 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Humour>Funny Stories

We're having our Sunday afternoon lunch at Mike's Kitchen. We reserved a table but arrived 30 minutes late so our table was given away to someone else, or so we suspect, because the small little table in everybody's way that they give us was really pitiful.

Chairmeat, Sir?

I'm sitting with my face right up against some other people sitting in a booth that our table leans against. I'm almost afraid to speak because I'll make their heads vibrate, not to mention our conversation wouldn't be in the least bit private, whatwith my head right up against theirs.

But, neither is their conversation private, and I'm somewhat enjoying their philospholozizownwow whatever. Their deep conversation is kind of amuzing.

At first, Mother thought it's another parent couple with their young son, but from their conversation I hear that these older people are saying to the guy "Well if you consider us as your parents..." and so on and on. He's responding with how he feels so much older whatwith everything he's gone through. Whatever traumatic episode that might be.

I don't know why, but I don't like our waiter. His manners aren't really refined, well-trained waiter manners. He's some young rather plain guy who obviously doesn't think his job is special or nothing.

He tells us that there in the table centerpiece are calling buttons for us to call our waiter. Father says he knows. Then the waiter says but he's not wearing one of those vibrating wrist thingies, so we shouldn't bother pressing those buttons. He'll just come back to our table in five minutes.

I feel like suggesting to Father and Mother that we just leave. Our table is in everybody's way and much too small for us really. The atmosphere is a bit cheap here.

But we end up staying.

Father orders some vegetables from the carvery. For some reason our waiter can't bring us one of those paper tickets that Father can show at the buffet table to dish up his vegetables. The waiter orders Father to come with him right now so that he can show the woman dishing up that Father is a legitimate up-disher of hot vegetables and a valid customer. Seriously, now their ticket printer isn't working either?? What in blazes is becoming of this place.

Some time later Father is gone with this guy. Maybe Father went to the restroom too, because the waiter brings our food but Father isn't here yet.

When he tries to put down Father's food, a black hot metal plate with a sizzling steak on it, he suddenly throws it out onto Father's chair. Good thing Father wasn't here.

The plate with its other contents fall onto the floor with so much noise, it's a spectacle spectacular.

"Plate burned me", our waiter mumbles.

He's obviously not prepared for a situation like this, because he's a bit all over the place. Should he pick up the meat? Should he go get some scoop or something to clean up the mess? The plate and the hot food still burns him so he doesn't know if he should pick it up yet.

So he's here and then gone and then here and then gone, one on which trips Mother pleads that he not just dish up the same piece of meat for Father, and on quite a few I ask for a Coke and Mother asks for salt. For many trips, the salt request is ignored until another waiter brings the salt and then our waiter also brings salt. Yay! If these were ancient times when salt were valuable, we'd be rich now.

Father of course wishes that he could have the freedom to explode with displeasement when he comes to the table and finds he can't sit down nor have his food, because there's food all over that side of the floor where he should sit, and his meal will have to be redone. He goes over to some other customers to chat while it seems a black woman and our waiter is cleaning up the place.

However, when they leave, just when Father wants to sit down, he says there's still food everywhere where his feet have to be.

But, he decides he'll just put his feet in the food then. Maybe it's nice and warm, dunno.

Later on the waiter comes and begs for forgiveness, telling us all his life problems about lots of money he needs by tomorrow and he doesn't know how he'll get it and that's why he's so upset and clumsy. I of course wish he'd just go now because honestly we just want to eat and don't want to know all his dramas.

But Mother, with the idiotic and stupid motherly heart many women have, asks him out about it and he keeps laying the drama thick onto her. Seriously, this is what waiters have become now? Whinebags who beg for money at the tables they serve? Sigh.

I must say it isn't long before I don't even believe all the waiter's stories. But Mother of course does, or doesn't but is one of those people whose philosphy is "but what if there's a billion to one chance it were true?", and if I recall correctly gave him some money and asked Father to let the waiter have the change, on top of the tip.

Personally I think this is very, very wrong, but you know how stupid and dumb women are, falling for all sorts of lame sob stories. And I love Mother so much, I can't scald her either. I just shrug at the nonsense I see in front of me.

When we leave the restaurant I don't really feel good from the food we just ate. Slightly nautious and it won't sit right in my stomache. I'll probably have brown showers at home. Great, this is what we get for staying when we were already wondering from the start if we should leave.

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Accident, Dining, Eating, Food On Chair, Food On Floor, Mess, Restaurant, Waiter

Meet the author

author avatar Marzeus von Hemelen
I like eggs for breakfast. I live on top of a hill inside a beautiful but old dwelling complex. I like to take life in through my senses and then give feedback through my writing.

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author avatar Md Rezaul Karim
29th Oct 2015 (#)

Nice story of humor..

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