Ah Friday again, if ever there was a day that set my loins on fire it is Friday and it looks like a fine end to a fine week. We started off with quite a few visits from Smalltown’s young mothers; apparently the kindergartens close during spring break so the ladies are stuck with their sprogs and, in need of respite, they take them out for coffee. Now some of these ladies are PHAT so I definitely gave them more attention than is strictly necessary. In any other business this would be called stalking, but here in coffeeworld I can get away with unrestricted letching. I happened to notice that one of them had a nice little rose tattooed on her stomach and as you know I am a sucker for that stuff. She seemed pretty cool about showing me even though I accidentally pulled a button or two off in my haste to unbutton her blouse. The snot gobblers are a bit of a nuisance but I find that a couple of loops of duct tape works wonders, and to be frank the look of pathetic gratitude on these mother’s faces is the only reward I need. If the visits continue into next week I shall know that it is not just the coffee that they are after. Watch this space.We also salute the legal system this week. My favorite telephone call involves the words “jury lunches” and we got the call twice this week. Of course it is not just the jury lunches but also all the visiting attorneys who have not yet discovered my penchant for providing truly indifferent service. I tell you people, some days the streets of Smalltown are paved with gold.
Talking of attorneys, as we were, here is a completely true story. Freddy Sue ( Sue Grabbit and Runne LLP) was too busy to walk down the hill for a lunch, so he sent one of his women. (As a slight aside this must be a southern thing, as Yankee women and for that matter English women don’t fetch lunch or collect dry cleaning for the boss, now back to the story). Bertie Grabbit and Ronnie Runne were already in and were chowing down. So our lady of the lunch orders the usual for Freddy and then says, “Freddy told me to give you a $2 tip”. Under normal circumstances I don’t like to accept tips on carryouts, oh who am I kidding I grabbed the two bucks and jammed them in the pickle jar before she changed her mind. After she had gone I related the tale to Bertie and Ronnie and mentioned how nice it was and that perhaps they could consider doing the same so that I got tipped out but didn’t have to suffer their presence (I know, I really am a great host aren’t I?). Well the odd thing was that Bertie didn’t really fight back much and our conversation was like pulling the wings off flies so I gave up. It turns out that Bertie has a little pile of morning medications and a pile of evening medications. The evening meds include a sleeping pill and can you guess what Bertie did? Of course you can. I noticed right away but I wonder if his clients did.
The next day Bertie came in with his wife and daughter. He asked for his usual so I proffered two lines of coke and a spliff, how we all laughed, happy days.
Do you remember our old friend the mountain man from previous blogs? He has become quite a regular and I still get a kick out of watching this huge hillbilly drinking white tea out of bone china. He is a great guy and also somewhat of a ballroom dancer. Apparently he has been taking lessons for years and now he is the redneck Fred Astaire. Actually the humor of this is all visual so I guess this paragraph is fairly pointless. Still look on the bright side, I had to type this nonsense whereas you, dear reader, merely have to flit your eyes to the next paragraph.
It turns out that I may have been a little too hasty in dismissing the avaricious advances of BB&T. Having received a statement which shows a zero dollar balance I have now received notification from some debt collectors in West Virginia. Clearly the moronic moneygrubbers at BB&T don’t realize that western Virginia and West Virginia are not the same place. Still bring it on boys I can’t wait to see you collect on a debt of $0.
And that was the week. Thanks to Bertie’s mix up on the meds I was able to seriously shortchange him and as a result, tonight I shall slip into the arms of Bacchus on a river of Grolsch instead of that poison from Milwaukee.
Watch out liver here comes Friday night.
TCB
Samlltown’s Scout Leader, Lawson D Woods called in this week. Half way through his Café Noir and petite fours he casually mentioned that $250 would sponsor a boy scout. On reflection my response of “WTF you must be different planet buster” was hardly appropriate. I therefore went on to explain that if “sponsoring” is a synonym for paying money to keep little mouths shut then I am currently “sponsoring” two girl guides and let me tell you that those painted jezebels are bleeding me white. Lawson quickly left with a disgusted look and a failure to tip. I am guessing that he is losing his mind as once again he has forgotten my name although why he would call me Mr. P D O’File is a mystery.
