A Messy Divorce

Hello chums, it's been awhile. I hope Boulder, the Gulch, Steuben's mountain town, and Alyssa's present location are all awesome at this present moment. If not, I'm sorry. I can't say Littletown has been awesome, that's why I've been away from Littletown and overseas in the UK and Amsterdam. But I'm back now and have a silly sarcastic piece to contribute. It's my take on the restaurant business and a possible answer to why the restaurant industry loves cocaine. Enjoy, I hope.

I could spot them right away. They were angry, pissed off. Talking in hushed voices about alimony and child support over their juicy, red steak and salad. But none of it was touched. The wife hadn’t even moved her silverware. The husband, he just waved his fork around, stabbing the air at every point he was trying to make. I knew this because I wanted to go on break. But I couldn’t because of these fucking squatters. That is, leaches who sit and hold a table and prevent other customers from giving me tips.  I had been watching over this table for almost an hour and the only thing that changed from when it had been set was the little puddles of red wine spreading across the absorbent white tablecloth. I mean, I knew this guy was leaving her, but she didn’t have to make a scene and drink two bottles. 1970 was a good year for cabernet sauvignon, so what if he was cheating on her? I didn’t care, as long as I got my break. Nothing tears me apart more than having a gram of nose candy and not snorting it. Finally Silver, the owner, sees me in my desperation and says I can take five. She has no idea I’m a user, I explained my twitching as a bladder problem.

Euphoria. That’s the only to describe the feeling that comes over me the moment after I rail a line. Euphoria, in the handicapped stall of the bathroom, Euphoria, with the diaper changing board down and my tips receipt rolled up. Too bad that poor sap with his fork couldn’t feel euphoria. Too bad waterworks with her wine couldn’t feel euphoria. Maybe I should’ve offered them a bump. I felt so powerful. I felt so perfect. Of course it felt dirty to finish a line on a baby changing table. The foul odor of the recent diaper change invaded my nose. But it didn’t matter because my nose was numb. The kind of numb a nose gets after the cold weather punishes it for an hour or two. We’re talking no feeling whatsoever. I couldn’t quit snuffing. This always happens, and I hate it when Silver notices. I told her I have allergies. She’ll believe anything.

So I walked back out of the bathroom and back to the bitching couple. The same fork was still as poignant as ever. The white table cloth was ever so blotted with red wine stains. At that point I seriously considered walking over and offering them a line each. They would feel better about their situation. After all, I hated them before, and still hated them just as much then, but I didn’t care. They would’ve looked at me like I was crazy if I had offered them relief. I would’ve lost my job over euphoria. But shouldn’t I look at them crazy? I know I was a deviant. But so was she, with her two near empty bottles of cabernet and tears, and he with his near empty soul and infidelity.