Believe it or not, this post began as a seed in my tiny, atrophied brain as a post offering parenting tips to first time parents. As a father of three, of course I’m qualified to help others become great parents, just like me. However, I somehow got sidetracked and that topic never got fully fleshed out. Lucky for you, I plan to revisit my parenting tips post later. Instead, enjoy a couple of my favorite restaurant’s finest characters.
Who doesn’t love fried chicken, or fried anything for that matter?
One of my many jobs is moonlighting as a glorified security guard at a restaurant in the city that offers large portions of food, mostly fried, at very reasonable prices. They’re known for their fried chicken, but serve many different types of dishes, nearly every one of which is delicious and terrible for your health to eat more than once a month.
Because it’s so affordable and the food is good and plentiful, the customers come from all walks of life. Human being-like creatures who would never ever eat out in public anywhere else will come eat at this restaurant because they can do so in their sweat pants and tank tops or even just in whatever it is they wore to bed the night before. The first of the month crowd that I touched on in this post is a favorite customer of this restaurant. Here is a recent customer as an example:
Go ahead boys, fall in love, because she was single. Bertha VonMilkshakes here was in this exact position when I showed up at the restaurant one night. She had ordered not one, but two plates of fried food for herself, a half chicken plate and a fried catfish plate. That’s a whole lot of food for one person! That’s a lot of food for three people, really.
This is the chicken plate:
The catfish is the same thing, but with fried catfish, duh.
Anyway, Bertha ordered her food and then decided to go outside to have a smoke while she waited the entire 7 minutes or so it was going to take for her food to arrive at her table.
Not only is she morbidly obese, but she’s a smoker, has a mustache and chin hairs, and worst of all, a shitty disposition! Look, if you’re going to be obese and not tend to yourself in any way to make yourself presentable physically, the least you can do is try to be pleasant so we can laugh with you and not at you. This woman was none of those things and didn’t give two shits about it. I guess that’s something to admire about her at least. Oh, and she STANK something fierce!
Anyway, her food comes to the table while she’s outside, but suddenly she realizes that she’s not able to navigate her fat ass up the 5 inch step to get back into the restaurant. Having left her cell phone at the table, she YELLS into the restaurant to her family that they have to leave. She is literally stymied from going back inside to eat by her inability to lift her fucking cankle 5.1 inches off of the ground! She had apparently used the handicap ramp to get in originally, but that door was now 14 yards away and entirely too far for her to attempt to reach at this point.
When she was told she’d have to pay for the 50 plus dollars of food she ordered (no small feat at this restaurant) for herself and her nearly as corpulent family members, she about had a heart attack. She stood briefly and yelled at one random stranger about what a ridiculous policy it was for a place to make a person pay for food that they ordered but couldn’t eat inside because the restaurant didn’t have a winch to retrieve wayward fatasses who’ve become beached in the smoking area outside. Thankfully, before she could mother fuck everyone else, she ran out of breath and sat back down. She was finally satisfied when assured that she could take her fried food, shame and what little bit of pride she had left home and wallow in all of them in the privacy of her own living room.
That was a few weeks ago and is my favorite non criminal incident at the restaurant. While I was working there last night one of the many currently pregnant servers asked me something or other about diapers for her future spawn. This must be where the original helpful parenting tips idea came from. She’s having a boy and wanted to know the best kind of diapers to get. Well, of course the best kind of diapers to get are the cheapest ones!
I was so pleased that I’d answered my friend’s question satisfactorily, that I wondered if others could use my parenting advice to help them not be such loser parents. Is there a need for my parenting advice?
That question was answered later in the night when Tammy Trailertrash and her husband came into the restaurant at two minutes before closing time with their two year old daughter.
Mom tried to assure everyone that her screaming daughter isn’t always a bitch, she’s just tired. No shit, lady, it’s 10 fucking o’clock pm! Take the kid home! Oh, and she may also be crying because she shit her pants. In addition to the stench, we can all see that it exploded out the back of her diaper and up her back. That’s probably uncomfortable on her skin.
Momma was holding the little stinker, and dad finally decided that he was going to pretend to be helpful by grabbing the baby around the waist while mom rooted through the diaper bag. In doing so, dad got baby shit all over his hands. When momma left with the baby for the bathroom, he didn’t follow her even though he clearly had shit all over his hands!
Instead, he uses his shit covered hands to pull out a chair for himself, sits down, and then peruses a menu. All the while, he’s looking at his hands as though they were new to him or as though there was some strange substance all over them. He even sniffed them at one point. Holy fuck! It’s turds you idiot!!! What do you think it is?!! Grrrr. When momma came back, daddy finally, and thankfully, went to go wash his own hands. I guess he had to make sure nobody stole their table or roofied his or his fat wife’s drinks even though there was nobody else in the place but them at that late hour. Their stinky diaper ran everyone else away
I assure you that nobody did steal their table or roofie their drinks though, as I’m an excellent guard and I make sure nobody gets their tables stolen or their drinks roofied, no matter how disgusting the people may be.