Reenactment: Your guru in action.
Whenever someone relates to me a harrowing experience, I strive to look interested and engage them in conversation. To feign interest I’ll often ask thought-provoking questions like, “Did you live?”
It can be a lively conversation booster.
Spoiler alert: In the story I’m about to share, I lived. Or, as Nethack might put it, “You survived that attempt on your life.”
But perhaps I’m relating things out of turn. It all started when I met my wife for lunch…
Every Tuesday I take a break from work to meet my wife for lunch. It’s the highlight of my week. It gives me something to look forward to lest I completely give up and allow my heart to stop beating while at the office. I love a good challenge.
This week she recommended a donut shop that recently added a “deli” with Mexican food. We’ve heard they’re pretty good. Oh, great! A new adventure. Count me in.
Naturally, since this is me relating the story, we can already assume it didn’t go well. Obvious.
We walked in and the place was nice and quiet and deserted even thought it was the middle of the lunch rush. When we tried to order we were awkwardly told, “This could take a while.” My wife asked how long. “Maybe 15 minutes.” That’s odd. Whatever. We shrugged decided to stick it out. We put in our orders and sat down to chill.
My wife ordered the #2 combo. Two chili rellenos. I ordered the #3 combo. Two tamales. It was not a good sign that both of our orders completely befuddled our server. Of course we did not heed this omen.
The server, by the way, was also apparently the underage daughter of the owner. I like kids as much as the next guy (ha!) but something about them being used as restaurant staff rubs me the wrong way. I’m out for a dining “experience” not to interact with your damn kids!
The kid looked miserable. And she looked young. Really young. I asked my wife to estimate her age. “12,” she replied. Maybe not, but she sure looked young. And she didn’t seem to know anything, either. Every single thing required a trip to the back where she’d disappear for two interminable minutes to get answers.
Finally the owner brought out our lunch. It was a single plate. It contained one chile rellenos and one tamale. Somehow our two combination plates had been morphed into a super-secret combo. “Is this all?” we asked. She nodded. It took a little explaining but we were finally able to communicate that this was not correct. It was decided she’d bring another plate exactly the same and we’ve maneuver our own food items around as necessary. We’re always willing to do our bit to help.
That was pretty much it. My wife ate most of one of her rellenos and barely touched anything else. Then it was time to go and my wife got me a to go box. While she paid I pushed both plates of food into the box. My wife doesn’t eat leftovers. This would make a meal or snack for me later.
Gluttony is not my area of expertise. I’m more of a sloth kind of guy. But that doesn’t mean I totally ignore the field, either. I maintain an interest.
And that was it. That’s the story. Until, some three hours later, a forbidding email arrived…
From: Mrs. Abyss
To: Tom B. Taker
Time: 4:09 PM
Subject: foodI just realized you just had to scrape my plate into your to go box as well. Did you ever think there may have been a very good reason as to why I did not finish my plate?
What the hell, I thought. Was this a charge of “gluttony” being leveled in my direction? I decided to go the defensive route. Note: My replies may not look as “verbose” as normal since I was writing using my little device. My finger gets tired, you know!
From: Tom B. Taker
Time: 4:27 PM
Subject: Re: foodNo what was it? You calling me food greedy?
I think I see Jimmy Hoffa in there!
I was curious about this mysterious “very good reason” and awaited her response.
From: Mrs. Abyss
Time: 4:31 PMYes and I don’t think I’ll kiss you for awhile (not that you ever kiss me). I found a piece of soggy corn tortilla in the middle of my beans. Made me think they recycle off of people’s plates. But you go right ahead and eat all. Who knows, it could have been off of your boss’ plate or even a smoker’s plate.
Bon Appétit!
Ouchies. My jugular was smarting from that. She had decided to escalate with two scenarios she knew would push my buttons the most. Very calculating! I decided, however, to respond with humor and tease with a gambit I often use around the house. Usually when I’ve cooked something and she finds it unpalatable. The subtle point here is that if you are hungry enough almost anything will taste delicious.
From: Tom B. Taker
Time: 4:33 PMWhat if it was day 30 on Survivor island?
I underestimated her viciousness, though, and she struck right back.
From: Mrs. Abyss
Time: 4:34 PMGo ahead smoky smokerson. Enjoy! I’m sure Probst will be most impressed.
The thing that was really bothering me, though, was that if the food was really so bad, why in the name of Zeus’ butthole didn’t she warn me before I ate it??? I took a subtle step in that direction.
From: Tom B. Taker
Time: 4:35 PMSpousal sabotage
Yeah, I figured it would go over well.
From: Mrs. Abyss
Time: 4:36 PMGlutinous goose
Wow. I never figured she’d get so damn overt. It was time to crush her with my critical thinking skills. And tack on an implied “you threw me under the bus,” too.
From: Tom B. Taker
Time: 4:40 PMLogic dictates that if yours was hosed mine may have been, too.
She grokked what I was saying but refused to take the bait. With “bait” being the operative word and oh-so apropos to this discussion.
From: Mrs. Abyss
Time: 4:41 PMUm yeah, hello that’s what I been saying. Oh are you saying I should have told you ASAP so you’d stop eating yours?
Reenactment: More guru. Practicing just in case.
Apparently I didn’t have the heart to flat out make that accusation, so I reverted to my natural instincts. I went for pathetic and negative. My cocoon of comfort. And a dash of guilt for good measure.
From: Tom B. Taker
Time: 4:43 PMLogic dictates if the food was already in my belly there was nothing to be done, short of inducing projectile vomiting, and even then there may already have been germ contagion. No touching!
Either way I’m doomed.
But she put it right back on me. I was being held accountable for being an unobservant bastard!
From: Mrs. Abyss
Time: 4:45 PMLogic also dictates that you should have asked why I didn’t finish my meal before stuffing my leftovers in your to go hole.
Now the record here gets interesting. An entire seven minutes elapsed before my next reply. No doubt I was concocting a grand stratagem that would finally and conclusively put her in her place. I decided to pretend that the conversation had left me feeling ill and had prompted me to leave work early. That’s my daily dream so I knew it would easily have the ring of truth.
From: Tom B. Taker
Time: 4:52 PMI’m writing this from home. I got queasy after reading your email. Not sure if I’m going to make it.
By the way, go hole? Good one.
I think she fell for it! But she also tossed in an ominous threat for good measure.
From: Mrs. Abyss
Time: 4:53 PMSeriously, you’re home. Have fun making up the time!
And, thank you! I was pretty proud of that one myself.
I finally concluded the exchange with one more piece of compelling proof that I was indeed at home. I mentioned the cats.
From: Tom B. Taker
Time: 4:54 PMOh, I forgot. El Guapo and Tilly say hi.
She never bothered to reply and that’s where it ended. Maybe some damn work shit got in the way? Perhaps we’ll never know.
Luckily, though, I never did get sick. As they like to say, “You survived that attempt on your life.” And the box of leftovers remain in the fridge calmly awaiting their fate. Will they be eaten? Will our hero be too squeamish to glutton them down? Find out next time on another hilarious episode of Who Gives A Shit?
——–
Note: Images in this post were obtained from a search for “food poisoning.” I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so I used a few. So fortuitous!
Pros -
- You remembered to pull your hair back while vomiting
- Go Hole is an excellent line
Cons -
- Mexican food at a donut shop? really?
- You didn’t rave about the food to your boss and leave the box in the work fridge?
And finally, please tell me you and your wife know another El Guapo. And if so, please add my “Hello” to his.
I like it when actors really put themselves into their roles. Pulling the hair back was, of course, the ultimate guru move. And yes, “to go hole” is probably the line of the year. Mrs. Abyss just put herself in the running for the Golden Poop award.
We had heard the food was really good there. Go figure. And no, I didn’t think about a plan as devious as yours. You should spend more time sitting on my shoulder like a little guardian angel. Dammit. Opportunity missed.
And no, I wasn’t trying to name drop about you. El Guapo is the name of my cat. His full name is El Guapo Picard Tutankhamun Taker. All cats deserve many names.
Now I feel like Indiana Jones. He was named after the dog.
Wow.
You and your wife email more in a day than my husband and I talk in an entire week.
Impressive. Or was this unusual?
Also, could there just have been cross-contamination? You know, the 12 year old used the same spoon as the corn to scoop out the beans or rice? Just sayin’. My mind would never have jumped to the conclusion of pre-eaten.
Fascinating.
We may have been particularly verbose that day. It’s admittedly a little more email conversation than we usually have. I guess you could say we sometimes have issue-based discussions.
I forgot to mention that my wife is a bit of a gourmet. She can tell food, just by eating it! Weird, I know. Sadly I do not have the same ability. She can tell if food is fresh or came from cans, etc. We used to cover the restaurants in this town and had a lot of employees privately approach us and tell us about the antics in their restaurants. Usually it was snarky small business owner boss stuff like refusing to pay final paychecks, etc. But, sometimes, it was about uneaten soup being put back in the pot. Yummy!
So it’s not that much of a stretch, in this town, to imagine the kind of stuff that restaurant owners might pull in the name of pinching a penny.
Think about THAT the next time you go out to dinner!
Eww. Limp and soggy leftovers. This is right up there with your post about erectile dysfunction.
Oh. Wait. That was someone else. Apologizes to Mrs. Abyss.
ZOMG! When this comment came through my device, only the first line was visible. The rest was truncated. (Ever been truncated before?)
I was yelling at the tiny screen, “I never wrote no such thing!!!”
Then I get here all angry and shit and see you corrected yourself. Lucky you.
I’d never complain about ED. That’d be a big step up for me.
I know you too well NOT to correct myself before you do.
Isn’t it wonderful how the universe constantly sends you great material for your blog! Now, I’m going to have to avoid Mexican food for an entire week until the memory of this incident passes. (This calls for some kind of poop reply.)
Oh yes. Wonderful is the word I was looking for. Thanks!
This begs the question: Would I give up all my most special experiences at the cost of my blog being even more bland? Probably not. I’m as hooked on the universe pooping on my face as I am re-runs of Saved By The Bell.
For some strange reason my searches about “food poisoning” came up with lots of results about “diarrhea.” I hope you all noticed I took the high road and didn’t go there. That’s guru self-restraint!
El Guapo, here’s a picture of Guapo in action.