So after I drove home from community college in my fifteen passenger van today I was really excited because my mom said that for dinner tonight we were being treated to Ronald’s Family Diner because Aunt Lorraine won at Bingo so we had a little extra quiche to blow around…or throw around I can’t remember the exact saying.
Only I had to use a pay phone to call my mother to tell her I would be late because I parked my van in the visitor lot for just a minute because I needed to run in and ask about a parking ticket that I got. It said electrician vans are not allowed to park in commuter lots and so I had to go in and explain I was not an electrician doing wiring but a student with a big van. While I was in there I guess the ski team got confused and thought my van was the one driving them to their ski competition because when I went back to my car there were a lot of skiers just shooting the breeze in my van. I asked them to get out because I was late for Ronald’s Family Diner and they all scoffed at me and said, “Bus driver you don’t have time for Ronald’s Family Diner, our competition starts in 2 hours”. I explained to them they were very confused and this was not the recreational club bus but in fact my own personal vehicle.
After I rid my van of the ski team I was on my way home and getting psyched for Ronald’s Family Diner. Finally after all the anticipation we were there sitting around the table and I couldn’t wait. I glanced up at the specials menu and there I saw it, shepherd pie! It’s my absolute favorite thing and it was a special tonight. It was fate that I needed to eat this shepherd’s pie. I ordered it and was really enjoying it…despite the fact that I found a blueberry and an orange rind. EXCEPT! Then it happened…I found what I thought to be the hand of a mini, tiny man. I dug my fork into it and screamed bloody murder. Every other table just stared with their mouths gaped open as my face turned purple and I made the most dramatic gagging noises that I could. How could they?! I can’t eat a food made from tiny men!! That, in America, is called mini cannibalism!
I demanded that our waiter come and inspect my shepherd’s pie discovery and made a point to let it be known that I do not eat at restaurants that serve such ingredients! The waiter looked thoroughly confused and nauseous at the thought of me almost letting a small hand pass through my lips. The chef of Ronald’s, Ronald, was then called out to the calamity that was ensuing in the dining area.
“Ronald!” I shrieked, “How dare you serve me a very tiny man! He could have had a very tiny family and did not deserve to end up in my shepherd’s pie like this.” Ronald then began to yell at me because he was really offended that I made the whole restaurant believe he served people. As the scream fest was taking place someone had called the local newspaper and WGLT our local news station to document the story on my tiny hand in the pie. “You are through Ronald, you are through!” I was so confident that I had uncovered a major story, I did some big bust and now I would be the town hero.
Well….as it turns out that smallish hand was not a hand at all but an irregular piece of corn according to the DNA test results . In the end, I was forced to provide Ronald with 2 months worth of free help and go to counseling classes to work on my fib-telling, which was technically not a fib but an actual belief that it was a hand. Oh well, I have to stop writing now because Ronald needs me to shuck corn cobs.
Do not bite the hand that feeds you.
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