Two for Lunch

Bosslady is gone for the entire week. My fingers twitch with the amount of shit I intend to get into followed by a wide toothy grin while my ass wiggles in my chair to the sound of "We like to Party!"

Bosslady's Daughter and I went on a..... we'll just call it extended lunch at a local Chinese hut because I was hell bent on getting that thing where they bring you a platter of shit with a mini bbq in the middle, and she was hell bent on some Sake. The first place we tried went under, and the frown on my face formed a permanent wrinkle. I needed to cook and burn shit, nothing else would do, plain and simple.

Beat feet across town and the gentleman greeted Thirsty and Wrinkle Face. We asked right off if they had shit to burn at our table, explaining we were mountain men in the off-season of seal hunting and needed a cheap fix. He indicated indeed, we could procure fire and devour various forms of beast in his establishment.

I'd never tasted Sake, and I met it with much trepidation. Trying new things, especially in public, is not particularly an action I’m comfortable with. I would prefer to sneak into a closet and give it a go in case I gag or need to spit. Just a safety precaution for all involved.

It was gooooood! Different, but good. Then it began to fuck with me. Tiny little shots were very deceiving. After a bit I started seeing shit that I had to blink at. I knew that when served, my rice had not been bright red but it sure was in my peripheral vision.

Bosslady’s Daughter had been telling a story while her co-savage looked around the room paranoid and fidgety, and stopped to ask if I was ok. I said I didn’t know. So…… more Sake!!!!!!

Sake fix every-ting!

However, Sake will make a smoker want to smoke. I think Sake could make a straight person gay in the right circumstances, that was a very nice little drink! As we were waiting for the check Bosslady’s Daughter stared at me with an odd look as I busily cleaned the table of our crumbs and droppings, not entirely aware I was doing so.

"Do you work here?"
Startled, then laughing "No."

Being a nervous sort the drive back was, on my end, tense. We passed a highway patrol and I found myself wearing that look that only guilty mother fuckers wear when afraid of a bust. You know, how your posture goes rigid, eyes looking in the mirror without turning a head. Not only was my driver enjoying her belly of Sake, but her truck is all fucked up and illegal on a multitude of levels. He passed and I immediately went into the passenger role of "Is he turning around? No seriously! Is he? Oh man! Look…. For real is he?"

We survived. Good day.

-DM