This morning I went out to breakfast to Ruby’s Corporate Fake Diner, somewhat enjoying their mushy corned beef hash and intestine-destroying coffee. The rest of the patrons similarly seemed to quietly be enjoying their own mediocre food, including a middle-aged, poodle-permed, heavyset woman and her slumping gray-haired spouse sitting directly across from my table.
Suddenly, Old Fat Poodle Woman SCREAMED this at the top of her lungs:
“SANTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
WTF! went everyone in the restaurant. Apparently the mall Santa had popped into Ruby’s to circulate amongst the families for a bit, and OFPW lost her shit.
My mouth dropped open trying to figure this highly-unusual and deeply-inappropriate outburst in a suburban eatery. Was she a challenged person? Was she a lunatic? Was she whimsical? Apparently not. When Santa came by, she spoke to him: “Oh, did I embarrass you, Santa?”
Answer: OFPW was just an asshole.
She glanced over at me, I stared acid eyes into her as best I could, and watched her husband compress four more of his vertebrae as he no doubt was imagining himself on a sunny, sandy, blissfully serene and deserted tropical island, while Santa made mental note to ask for a raise.
© Copyright 2008- Marianne Spellman