The day after returning to the frozen tundra where spit is turned into ice droplets before it shatters off the ground, I figured a dinner with the family at a favorite local restaurant would remind me why I get up at 4:30am every morning when it’s ten below out. Granite City is a blend between a sports bar and nice restaurant, along with a short selection of very good handcrafted micro-brews. The wife and kids were in good spirits as Wyatt decided several intellectually challenging games of Tic-Tac-Toe would keep him busy until my peppercorn bacon cheeseburger with fried onion shavings arrived.
Kyra voiced her concerned about the flat milk she received but turned her attention to the waxy texture of the blue crayon over the red one as she colored ferociously outside of the lines in defiance of the new surrealism art movement. Meanwhile I enjoyed my carefully crafted “Brother Benedict Bock” which was served at a perfect temperature by a local hottie with sparkling blue eyes with some ginger highlights. Yes, I just looked at her face. She may have had a nice ass too but I didn’t take notice.
While Jim Rome prattled on in the background about baseball players who decided to juice themselves, my stomach’s radar began beeping loudly as my slab of flipped bovine grew near. Chicken strips for the little one had to be symmetrically prepared and quick parent’s hands used as the manager tried to be cute with younger female at the table with a joke. Jokes are fine, but don’t put an open bowl of syrup dipped fruit in front of an 18 month old unless you enjoy swimming in the sticky substance. Thoughts of implanting my wedding ring and four knuckles into his right eye socket subsided quickly with another sip of the beer and smell of the burger.
After carefully cutting the burger in half for dipping purposes I grabbed the bottle of ketchup sitting in front of me and shook it to loosen the contents. Unfortunately, the contents did not remain in the bottle after the shaking and managed to make my pants and shirt look like I was a midwife just completing my duties of assisting the fairer sex of bringing a new life into this world. Stunned, I wondered which restaurant employee was going to receive the wedgie of fury followed by false declarations of never returning here.
“I left the bottle open” the wife said
“Ok, why would you put the cap back on without tightening it?” I asked while keeping my emotions bottled unlike the sticky Heinz red sauce that lined my clothes
“You should have checked” the wife proclaimed, using her Teflon style of arguing while she looks at her grilled chicken sandwich
Here’s where you the viewer can chime in. What is your reply?
a) “You’re right honey, how thoughtless of me to think that the cap on a bottle of ketchup would be fastened” stated with no dripping sarcasm
b) The same as above but let the sarcasm come out as it should
c) “Could you explain the idea behind leaving the cap on top of the bottle?” “Would you like another demonstration of what happens?” then splatter her new blonde highlights and tight polo shirt with ketchup and look forward to sex with lefty and righty for the next six to twelve months
d) Leave your custom reply in the comments area
Enjoy your day and don’t forget to wrap your condiments! Yes, I laughed at myself the day after but not so much that day.
No comments:
Post a Comment