(EDITOR'S NOTE - to summarize Part One, our
correspondent found himself bored and hungry, which everyone
knows is a dangerous combination. So he headed down to the
local Pizza Hut, where he challenged the local fire
ordinance by lighting up a cigarette in the no-smoking
section. Confronted by the angry manager, our hero stood his
ground. But then the cops were called, and that's where we
pick up the story...)
I was now in a bit of a mess. The police were on the way to
the restaurant, where I sat in the non-smoking section
smoking a cigarette. My mood was till good, considering that
THE MANAGER had just threatened me with violence and very
bad breath. Should I wait for the law, or just act naturally
and do something foolish and futile?
I chose the latter.
I looked at THE MANAGER and moved to the smoking section,
which was one table away, and started screaming for another
pitcher of beer. The bored-looking waitress perked up and
started laughing, while THE MANAGER turned beet red and
started my way. He reached me as the police entered the
front door.
"You little fucking bastard!" He swung a wicked round house
right at me, which I ducked easily. The police jumped into
action, hitting THE MANAGER in the back with their
nightsticks, knocking him to the ground.
"All I wanted was another pitcher of beer." I said to the
officer as I watched THE MANAGER thrash around wildly in the
back of the police car. "He's crazy. Kept telling me I was
infected and he was gonna cut me up and put leeches on me to
cleanse me. Weird."
"He won't be bothering anyone for a long time Mr. Clark. He
bit me! That freak!" The young officer showed the teeth
marks on his hand: "If he gives us anymore trouble, I'm
gonna zap him." He patted the stun gun on his hip.
I nodded knowingly.
I felt that the story still needed somthing, so I headed to
a large seafood place that was just around the block.
There was a line of about six people when I entered and
there were seven behind me as I reached the PLEASE WAIT TO
BE SEATED sign.
The hostess was a hyper little tart who wore too much
make-up, and seemed to have a facial twist that reminded me
of Elvis.
"How many today sir?" she asked glancing at me briefly and
then behind me.
I turned around to the line behind me. "Any of you guys
wanna eat with me‡" They all looked at me in horror. I took
it as a no.
I turned back and said "Just one today I guess. Unless you
are getting a break and want to join me."
She smiled, "No I don't think my husband would like that."
"Hokay."
She stopped smiling, as if on cue, and said something
strange.
"Do you have a preference?"
"I always do." I told her.
She spun on her heel and disappeared into the
restaurant. After a minute she came back embarrassed.
"Follow me please."
"Wait a minute. I would like the no-nose picking section,
away from the fat people's section, but as close as possible
to the lesbian section. And if it's not too much of a
bother, I'd like a crab salad served in one of your bras."
I smiled.
"We only have smoking or non-smoking sections." Her eyes
darted nervously around.
"Why?" I asked sheepishly.
"I don't know." Puzzlement consumed her face, which was
replced by shock when I started screaming.
"DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT SMOKE KNOWS THE BARRIER BETWEEN
THE SECTIONS? SMOKING? NON-MSOKING! WHEN WILL IT END?"
I raced into the restaurant waving my arms. "YOU ARE ALL
BREATHING SMOKE! REPENT YOUR SINS! YOU! EATING THAT
LOBSTER? EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE IS ONE STEP CLOSER TO DEATH!"
All activity and conversation stopped.
"Sorry. Hemorrhoids." I smiled and shrugged. The hyper
hostess was on my arm and escorting me to the door.
I went home hungry. Not all stories have happy endings, but I got an innocent man arrested and a free pitcher of beer. That was enough, I think. And maybe, just maybe, I enlightened some people. Look, we are all going to die. It's just a matter of when, how and how many people you can take with you. What you do until your number is up should at
least be fun, or at least consistent.
