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I rather wish I knew the story behind this.
Yesterday, to celebrate the fact that I had a nice, big healthy salad for supper, I decided to stop in at Arby's on my way to work and blow any health gains I might have made all to hell by getting some dessert. I got my chocolate turnover and my jamocha shake, went and sat down, and was eating and reading a book when two girls, a guy, and an older lady sat down at a nearby table.
If I had to guess, I'd say that the older lady was the mother of the two teenage girls, and the guy was one of the girls' boyfriends. The woman had that wretched look about her that made you think she realized what a failure she'd been as a mother, and what godawful people she'd raised and let loose on society, and that she was just hoping they'd get through a meal in public without one of the girls threatening to cut a bitch. The girls were your typical "bad girl" trailer park queens, one dressed in pink and the other in turquoise, wearing matching tank tops and big hoop earrings. The guy was just another redneck.
The girl in turquoise was going on loudly and at length about how she wasn't "going to date some faggot that works at Arby's." I'm guessing that maybe the guy at the counter smiled at her or something. The wretched woman asked in a very tired voice for the girl to not be so loud.
"I don't give a shit," said Turquoise, "I'll say it as loud as I want. I ain't gonna date some faggot that works at the fuckin' Arby's."
And of course not. Who would expect her to? That would be beneath her. Besides, the real money is to be made in meth, and if you're smart, you'll choose a meth dealer every time. Not some guy who works at the Arby's.
"At least it's a job," said the redneck.
"Ain't no job," replied Turquoise with a snort, and then she yelled it again, "I AIN'T GONNA DATE SOME FAGGOT THAT WORKS AT ARBY'S!"
The wretched woman sighed. Pink thought it was funny. The redneck was quiet.
I finished my dessert. I could tell that Turquoise had things to say about other people too. She kept looking at me and rolling her eyes. I guess it was the CSI tee shirt, or maybe my crime-scene tape messenger bag that offended her, but I got the feeling that I wouldn't be the kind of guy she'd date either. Maybe if I wore one of those coats that makes you look like the Michelin man, or if I was wearing one of those really classy marijuana-leaf bling necklaces the size of a hubcap, or if I had a pimped out '85 Oldsmobile waiting in the parking lot or something... Just sort of got the feeling that's what she'd go for.
My loss? Nah...
Yesterday, to celebrate the fact that I had a nice, big healthy salad for supper, I decided to stop in at Arby's on my way to work and blow any health gains I might have made all to hell by getting some dessert. I got my chocolate turnover and my jamocha shake, went and sat down, and was eating and reading a book when two girls, a guy, and an older lady sat down at a nearby table.
If I had to guess, I'd say that the older lady was the mother of the two teenage girls, and the guy was one of the girls' boyfriends. The woman had that wretched look about her that made you think she realized what a failure she'd been as a mother, and what godawful people she'd raised and let loose on society, and that she was just hoping they'd get through a meal in public without one of the girls threatening to cut a bitch. The girls were your typical "bad girl" trailer park queens, one dressed in pink and the other in turquoise, wearing matching tank tops and big hoop earrings. The guy was just another redneck.
The girl in turquoise was going on loudly and at length about how she wasn't "going to date some faggot that works at Arby's." I'm guessing that maybe the guy at the counter smiled at her or something. The wretched woman asked in a very tired voice for the girl to not be so loud.
"I don't give a shit," said Turquoise, "I'll say it as loud as I want. I ain't gonna date some faggot that works at the fuckin' Arby's."
And of course not. Who would expect her to? That would be beneath her. Besides, the real money is to be made in meth, and if you're smart, you'll choose a meth dealer every time. Not some guy who works at the Arby's.
"At least it's a job," said the redneck.
"Ain't no job," replied Turquoise with a snort, and then she yelled it again, "I AIN'T GONNA DATE SOME FAGGOT THAT WORKS AT ARBY'S!"
The wretched woman sighed. Pink thought it was funny. The redneck was quiet.
I finished my dessert. I could tell that Turquoise had things to say about other people too. She kept looking at me and rolling her eyes. I guess it was the CSI tee shirt, or maybe my crime-scene tape messenger bag that offended her, but I got the feeling that I wouldn't be the kind of guy she'd date either. Maybe if I wore one of those coats that makes you look like the Michelin man, or if I was wearing one of those really classy marijuana-leaf bling necklaces the size of a hubcap, or if I had a pimped out '85 Oldsmobile waiting in the parking lot or something... Just sort of got the feeling that's what she'd go for.
My loss? Nah...
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