Main | The park bench Napolean. »
Sometimes it does take a village.
By Haywood Jablowme | September 15, 2007
The evening had started out like any other. Work had gone fine. Nothing special, just another day in an endless sea of productivity and depravity. It was 6:42 when my stomach began to rumble.
“Damn it” I thought as I remembered I had failed to make any dinner preparations. “Oh well, I’ll just go grab a quick bite”.
As I put on my coat and shoes, I made a mental list of restaurants that might contain the fewest douches at this time of night. I contemplated the Rusty Dragon, but my food has always tasted a little off since I failed to tip the waitress for the incompetent job she did a few weeks ago. I might have given her a pity tip if she hadn’t brought me the wrong order…..twice. But that’s another story.
I finally decided on the small steak house a few blocks away. Chances are that the people occupying this establishment are at least somewhat civil. After all, the poor folks simply cannot afford a steak dinner anymore. What’s more, I figured that my flawless plan would completely rule out any possible interaction with whining, screaming children. Boy was I wrong.
I arrived at the steak house just shortly after 7:00 p.m. Janice, the exceptionally gorgeous hostess seated me in a high back, private booth near the rear of the restaurant. I gazed upon her ass as she bent over to set my table. I had a feeling that before the week was through I would have this sweet young woman on her knees using the lords name in vain.
But at this point there were only professional pleasantries.
“Your waitress will be with you shortly”, Janice said as she gave me a longing yet professional look.
“I trust she will”, I said as I mirrored her gaze.
The evening had gone flawless. I sat and enjoyed my steak and my glass of scotch as I contemplated my future endeavors with Janice. I played out a great many scenarios in my head until I looked down and realized I had a massive erection. This is not acceptable for a steak house; maybe a sushi bar, but definitely not a steak house.
Just as my musing was being interrupted by my massive Janice inspired hard-on, the star of my fantasy walked past me to seat a family of three. My worst fear had come true. Sitting in the booth just in front of me was a mother, a father, and what appeared to be a 3 year old child. I knew at this moment that this evening would never be the same. And so it wasn’t.
The child started off slowly, testing the limits of his preoccupied parents. It started as an innocent tapping of the fork on the table. The tapping grew louder as the child realized there were no consequences for his actions. Within a few seconds the tapping turned to scraping.
“Stop it Aaron”, I heard the mother say.
And it stopped.
About a half minute later the tapping started again and just as before had grown louder with each passing second. Again I heard the mother discipline the small child but this time I witnessed a fork falling to the ground. Apparently Aaron didn’t like to be told what to do.
The waitress came and took the family’s order. All was well. Aaron was well behaved in the promise of receiving his macaroni and cheese and I was happy that the child was quiet.
It was no sooner than I finished that thought that Aaron was at it again. This time he had managed to figure out that the fork made much more noise when used as a mallet on his water glass. And naturally, he thought it was perfectly necessary to sing along with his musical composition. And so he did. Loudly.
“Aaron honey, please be a good boy”, I heard the mother request.
“Yeah tiger, let’s show mommy how we can be a good boy”, the father chimed in.
At this point I knew I was in for more than I had bargained for. These were the kind of parents that had no business raising a child. They had no doubt read ALL the books and watched Doctor Phil religiously for expert advice. These are the parents that believe it is more effective to reason with a 3 year old child rather than exert dominance and act like a parent. These are the parents that raise future douches.
There would be no peace this evening.
Within seconds of this request the child let out a high pitched, blood curdling scream. My shoulders hunched and my brow furrowed at this most awful sound. Then, as though 1 weren’t enough, our darling little angle decided to let another one loose.
“Aaron honey, please stop for mommy”, said the incompetent mother to her devil child.
Aaron, obviously satisfied with the amount of attention he received, did stop for mommy…for about 30 seconds. I flagged down the waitress and ordered another scotch and requested that she tell the little shit to shut the hell shut up. She brought my scotch but refused to discipline the child. There went half her tip.
At this point Aaron had moved on from screaming to yelling the alphabet.
“A B C D……E F……….G!” the child yelled at the top of his lungs.
To which his parents replied, “That is fantastic honey”.
It quickly dawned on me that if this child was going to shut up, I would have to be the bad guy. I glanced around the room and surveyed the faces of the other patrons. The look of disgust and anger was no stranger to any of the dozen or so customers trying to enjoy their steak dinner in peace.
By the time Aaron had gotten to R I had had enough. I swallowed my last ounce of scotch and rose to my feet. It was but a few steps to the booth in front of me. As I advanced, I gazed upon the devil child, yelling letters to a delighted audience of asshole parents. Aaron saw me approach and seemed to yell louder as though I were merely another member of his adoring audience. I was not impressed.
“Excuse me”, I said. “I am trying to enjoy my meal in the booth behind you. Perhaps you might be a little bit more respectful”.
Apparently this is not something you say to parents who think their child is the center of the universe. The two parents stared at me as though I had just exposed myself to their little angel.
“Excuse me?” replied the mother.
“Your child is rather loud and obnoxious, there are people in this restaurant that do not wish to hear him yelling the alphabet or screaming at the top of his lungs” I replied in a calm and collected manner.
“And who the hell are you?” asked the obviously offended mother.
“I am a guy who chose to come to this establishment to enjoy my dinner in a calm and quiet atmosphere. If I wanted to hear a little brat screaming I would have gone to McDonald’s”
I had reached the point of no return. The looks on the faces of the couple in front of me were that of rage. It was as if they could not understand how I failed to realize the genius of their child. Had I no idea what an amazing feat it was that a child could recite the alphabet at 3 years old? It was obvious by their glances that I was the bad guy.
“I really don’t think you have any right to tell me how to mother my child”.
“I really don’t think you have the right to bring your little brat into this fine establishment and ruin our evening. If you are unable to or are unwilling to discipline your child, then I suggest you stay home. There is a reason I wear a condom when I fornicate. It’s so I don’t ever have to listen to that!”
This remark gained a small chuckle from the other patrons of the Great American Steak House who had inadvertently gotten dinner and a show.
At this point the father decided to chime in. “I think you really need to sit down”.
“Very well then, just shut him up”.
A few minutes later the waitress came to my table with my check. I told her I had a desire for desert but was quickly informed that I needed to leave, that it was not my business to talk to other patrons like that. I reminded her of the request I made that went unfulfilled. She said nothing.
I gathered my things and stood up. But before leaving I just had to say one more thing to the parents in the booth in front of me.
“You know, parents like you should be shot. I really don’t care how you raise your child. That’s your business. But if you would rather ruin the evening of a room full of people than properly discipline your child, there is something seriously wrong with you. And if you get offended by people telling you the truth, then you might want to smother your child now because chances are he will grow up to be nothing special. He is not a genius. He is not special. He is just another obnoxious 3 year old child that needs parents, not a god damn friend”.
With that I was escorted out of the steakhouse by a large burly gentleman. As I made my way from the rear of the restaurant I was cheered with clapping from the majority of patrons in the room. As I passed them I witness a change in their facial expressions. They had changed from frowns to smiles. I even received a thumbs up from a middle aged man sitting with who I assumed was his wife.
This tale is nothing new for an asshole of my caliber. All it did was reaffirm that we are all assholes at heart but few are willing to let their inner asshole shine.
Topics: Story |
One Response to “Sometimes it does take a village.”
Comments
You must be logged in to post a comment.
September 17th, 2007 at 5:41 am
That was awesome.