Reservoir Hogs: Final Phase
Tempers triggered by Hunger, Forks & Knives and Gingerly Inflicted Noodle Wounds
The order had been placed. The four geeks waited while twiddling their thumbs, composing new improved symphonies for soap commercials. The incredible wait raged on! Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty, thirty, tick, tock, tick, tock! Bellies bellowed war anthems, accompanied by fierce drum rolls before the final attack. We waited.
The smell of excellent food wafted across the restaurant floor and through our clothes invading our bulging nostrils that'd turned into Lion caves. I won't use the word den. Sorry. The beast would be unleashed soon. Evil smiles were breaking out on our sorry, hungry faces. The crowd of twenty frolicked and indulged in a food fight of gargantuan proportions. More food! MORE FOOD! We had dick. It was a test worthy of Gladiators from any century, from any continent across the world. The test of Patience, of integrity. Human integrity. Human enough not to make this human pick up the fork & knife and stick it in the eyeball of each of those vocal nincompoops who were relishing their meal while we experienced an episode of 'Incredible sunny day in the Mojave.'
Then a lady who seemed to be the owner walked out of the kitchen with a cake and a candle on it. 'Happy birthday!!' they screamed. Arun's heart sank. His jaw was already down there somewhere. His hunger was wreaking havoc with his ability to tell right from wrong. He gripped one of the knives hard,while gritting his pearly whites. I looked at him and said, "dood, not now.." His grip softened on the butter knife. It twisted in his hand and fell as though relieved. Meanwhile, we realized it was one of the girls who was experiencing this conical cake and cheap birthday music moment. She blew out the candles in one whiff and the candles buckled sideways as if struck by the vitriolic garlic odor in her breath. 'Happy birthday!!' they screamed again. WOW! Fuck y'all! The candles were taken out and the birthday song roared into a crescendo while the owner lady danced around in a ritualistic tribal rhythm while clicking photos and asking those happy, belly-filled patrons to pose. How nice, eh?
The frolicking continued and some of the patrons decided to socialize while standing around the table, picking their teeth. The cheesy birthday music was driving us nuts. It seemed like there were 2034 different versions of slow and fast 'happy birthdays' , happy and sad versions, remixes by Stevie Wonder and some Latin American dudes. There was an Indian version featuring an aural rope trick to amuse you while elephants shook their booties to the foot stomping tunes. I was being slowly driven to becoming a clinically certified psycopath. The other three geeks saw red. One of guys out of the crowd came pretty close to my end of the table. I got up violently gritting my teeth, with my fists clenched and he felt my breath on his neck. He turned around. He could clearly see my chubby cheeks still jiggling from the violent rise and he realized that a plate or two was in the process of making a cameo appearance on his chevy chase. He backed off with a 'Uh, 'm sorry.." I sat down slowly as if warning him, not to order any more food. 'Not even your friends, fuk'n teriyaki face...' The crowd stopped cheering and settled down to finish their meal.. Koooh-ull! Wait, all that didnt happen. I was just indulging in some literary license. The narrative upto the table-side socializing is true.
So a good forty five minutes had passed since our order, which was about thirty five minutes after we entered the place. The tribal dance lady walked up to our table and said she was sorry for the delay. The food arrived on our table and madness followed. The cutlery tossed around like coke-sniffing euphoric lizards leaping on hot, rocky terrain at 115 deg F. The plates flew around like alien ships in a 50's sci-fi flick. The food was gone in a few seconds. It was like we sucked the entrees right off the plates like we had vacuum tubes for mouths. IT WAS A KICK ASS MEAL! Next time, we'll try to remember the names right. You have to understand that trying remember entree names was the last thing on our minds. We'd gone in to eat as decent citizens and circumstances had turned us into gravy-curdling, sauce thirsty pyschos. Fuckin' amateurs.
The birthday party people were settling down too. Maybe the digestion was directing the rush of blood to their intestines rather then their brains. Fuckers didn't know how close they'd come to walking out the joint with fine cutlery sticking out of their eyes, ears & buttonholes...
The order had been placed. The four geeks waited while twiddling their thumbs, composing new improved symphonies for soap commercials. The incredible wait raged on! Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty, thirty, tick, tock, tick, tock! Bellies bellowed war anthems, accompanied by fierce drum rolls before the final attack. We waited.
The smell of excellent food wafted across the restaurant floor and through our clothes invading our bulging nostrils that'd turned into Lion caves. I won't use the word den. Sorry. The beast would be unleashed soon. Evil smiles were breaking out on our sorry, hungry faces. The crowd of twenty frolicked and indulged in a food fight of gargantuan proportions. More food! MORE FOOD! We had dick. It was a test worthy of Gladiators from any century, from any continent across the world. The test of Patience, of integrity. Human integrity. Human enough not to make this human pick up the fork & knife and stick it in the eyeball of each of those vocal nincompoops who were relishing their meal while we experienced an episode of 'Incredible sunny day in the Mojave.'
Then a lady who seemed to be the owner walked out of the kitchen with a cake and a candle on it. 'Happy birthday!!' they screamed. Arun's heart sank. His jaw was already down there somewhere. His hunger was wreaking havoc with his ability to tell right from wrong. He gripped one of the knives hard,while gritting his pearly whites. I looked at him and said, "dood, not now.." His grip softened on the butter knife. It twisted in his hand and fell as though relieved. Meanwhile, we realized it was one of the girls who was experiencing this conical cake and cheap birthday music moment. She blew out the candles in one whiff and the candles buckled sideways as if struck by the vitriolic garlic odor in her breath. 'Happy birthday!!' they screamed again. WOW! Fuck y'all! The candles were taken out and the birthday song roared into a crescendo while the owner lady danced around in a ritualistic tribal rhythm while clicking photos and asking those happy, belly-filled patrons to pose. How nice, eh?
The frolicking continued and some of the patrons decided to socialize while standing around the table, picking their teeth. The cheesy birthday music was driving us nuts. It seemed like there were 2034 different versions of slow and fast 'happy birthdays' , happy and sad versions, remixes by Stevie Wonder and some Latin American dudes. There was an Indian version featuring an aural rope trick to amuse you while elephants shook their booties to the foot stomping tunes. I was being slowly driven to becoming a clinically certified psycopath. The other three geeks saw red. One of guys out of the crowd came pretty close to my end of the table. I got up violently gritting my teeth, with my fists clenched and he felt my breath on his neck. He turned around. He could clearly see my chubby cheeks still jiggling from the violent rise and he realized that a plate or two was in the process of making a cameo appearance on his chevy chase. He backed off with a 'Uh, 'm sorry.." I sat down slowly as if warning him, not to order any more food. 'Not even your friends, fuk'n teriyaki face...' The crowd stopped cheering and settled down to finish their meal.. Koooh-ull! Wait, all that didnt happen. I was just indulging in some literary license. The narrative upto the table-side socializing is true.
So a good forty five minutes had passed since our order, which was about thirty five minutes after we entered the place. The tribal dance lady walked up to our table and said she was sorry for the delay. The food arrived on our table and madness followed. The cutlery tossed around like coke-sniffing euphoric lizards leaping on hot, rocky terrain at 115 deg F. The plates flew around like alien ships in a 50's sci-fi flick. The food was gone in a few seconds. It was like we sucked the entrees right off the plates like we had vacuum tubes for mouths. IT WAS A KICK ASS MEAL! Next time, we'll try to remember the names right. You have to understand that trying remember entree names was the last thing on our minds. We'd gone in to eat as decent citizens and circumstances had turned us into gravy-curdling, sauce thirsty pyschos. Fuckin' amateurs.
The birthday party people were settling down too. Maybe the digestion was directing the rush of blood to their intestines rather then their brains. Fuckers didn't know how close they'd come to walking out the joint with fine cutlery sticking out of their eyes, ears & buttonholes...
posted by Shaking Shenoy at 5/02/2005 03:50:00 PM
1 Comments:
Aahahaha! Dood, awesome!
I expected the 4th to be Anna, though.
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