A few weeks ago my wife bought me a brand new white shirt. She paid $38 for it (I’ve never paid more that $15 for a shirt in my life, but she got it [all together now] on sale! But that’s a rant for another day …)
It’s Friday night. I have just completed a 14 hour-day-from-hell-where-not-one-damn-thing-went-right. My overall mood could rather poorly and inaccurately be described as “testy”. My wife wants to go out to dinner. To prove the point she intentionally did not thaw out anything to fix for dinner. Can’t fight that kinda logic without incurring traumatic personal injuries. So, away we go to the local Chinese Buffet.
(At this point, you may be wondering where I’m headed with this. Remember that patience is a virtue.)
When we arrive, there are about 40 other patrons in the restaurant. We are seated, then go to the buffet to select our chow. Mein. Whatever. It’s a buffet. Pick what you want.
All is quiet on this Western Front when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Mama and Papa and eight miniature little dears. They are promptly shown to a table, and off to the buffet they go. But there seems to be a problem. One of the little dears (approx. 8 yrs. old) is proclaiming that his preference would not be Chinese, but rather Micky D’s. He did this in a voice that would drown out the air horn on my semi. The mines in this area require hearing protection around anything that loud.
To further drive home the extent of his displeasure, Our Hero proceeds to throw a hissy fit. Actually, a full blown temper tantrum. Complete with the lying upon his belly pounding the floor with is fists, kicking the floor with his legs and screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs. But, alas, to no avail. Mama and Papa indulge themselves in their meal, blissfully unaware of this scene.
The Human Parents in the restaurant gaze in wonderment (read: disgust) at Mama and Papa, in the sure and certain hope that they (the crowd) are about to see blood. (You know how rubber-neckers are!) But neigh, no light from yonder windows to the soul seems to be forthcoming.
Apparently also aware of this total lack of attention, Junior decides on a new course of action. Plate full of food in hand, he demonstrates to parental units that he will, in fact, not partake of this foreign cuisine, and in a demonstration that would make John Elwood extremely jealous, passes his plate to another patron in the restaurant. (Perfect pass! Hit his target right in the chest! The Crowd Roars!)
Seems this patron was a perfect target. Some jerk who was foolishly wearing a brand new, overpriced, brilliantly white shirt that stood out like a neon sign on a dark and stormy night.
Assuming that this pass was made to the wrong team member, I immediately handed off the plate to Papa. From 30 feet. Despite the fact that my wife was attempting a blitz.
Whistles blow. Flags are thrown. Much unpleasantness then ensued. Officials are called in for a ruling. Was this, in fact, an illegal forward pass, or merely a cunning lateral?
Eventually, a man with a badge and gun appeared and demanded to know who had thrown this plate at Papa.
I stood. Defiant. Covered with sweet and sour pork and long grain white rice (and several other items. It was a buffet, remember?). Ready to plead guilty. And self-defense. And insanity (I really am a crazy old fart!).
And in a scene reminiscent of Sparacus, every patron in the restaurant who had witnessed this event, along with two servers, and the restaurant owner/manager, stood, each in their own turn, saying:
“I did.”
Brought tears to this ol’ man’s eyes, it did.
My wife, on the other hand, and despite sharp blows to the ribs by a near-by elbow, simply would not stop giggling.
After a few minutes of this, neither could the Officer.
I left a rather large tip that night, despite the owner offering to give us our meal “on ze louse”.
Lucy
P.S.: Before you ask - The charges: Disturbing the Peace, Attempted Assault on a Peace Officer During the Performance of His Duty, Interfering With a Peace Officer During the Performance of His Duty, Failure to Supervise a Minor Under the Age of 12, Assault on a Minor Under the Age of 12, Destruction of Private Property (See below), Criminal Trespass.
No, not me ---- Papa! When the Officer started giggling, he went ballistic … 
The shirt did not survive. It sacrificed it’s life in vain, though. All this shit didn’t even make it into the local paper. :mad: I would love to be able to doument this with a link! Allass, you’ll just have to take my word for it …
