|Wretch and Stevie Wonder|
Last weekend Stevie Wonder, Wretch and I went to Five Guys for lunch. Steve and I have been dieting since last November and occasionally we indulge in something that has enough calories in it to make an anorexic cringe.
We stood in line and placed our order. I was going to get a table for us, because the place was pretty busy. I made a general statement about how nice it was outside, and that more people were sitting outside than inside, then looked around and said "I'm going to get a table." Steve said in a loud voice "I don't want to sit outside!"
I just looked at him like he'd gone insane. He'd made a radical connection between my two statements, but his hypothesis was wrong. I glared at him, red-eyed.
|does this look like a western theme?|
Wretch and I took our cups to the soda fountain while SW completed our order and paid for it. Then we sat down and waited. I was pretty tense by this time. I looked around and saw SW getting something. I figured it was ketchup.
It was peanuts. He sat down and started eating the peanuts. And flipping the shells in the floor.
Let me give a little background here, or the rest of my tale won't make a damn bit of sense. There are several restaurants locally that serve peanuts as an appetizer. When you eat the peanuts, you throw the shells in the floor. Most of these restaurants have a western or country theme. You expect to hear the crunch of peanut shells under your feet when you eat there.
I mentioned to Steve as he threw more shells in the floor that Five Guys was not that sort of place. And this is how the rest of the conversation went:
SW: Sure it is. There's hulls everywhere.
Me: Show me a single peanut shell.
SW: They are on the floor.
Me: (by now I've scoped the whole place, and no shells anywhere) Nope. No shells anywhere. Show me a single shell. (I knew I had him. He had no way out. He had to admit he was WRONG.)
SW: (About this time a young lady walked by with a broom and dustpan and started sweeping up under a table a few rows away.) See, she's sweeping peanuts up.
Me: Those aren't peanuts, they are french fries that spilled on the floor.
SW: Well, it's job security for her.
About the time he said that, the young lady walked over and said "here let me sweep that up for you". SW looked at me smugly, as if to say 'see, I told you so'. After she swept up the small mountain of peanut shells from under SW's feet, she said:
"Let me get you a container to put those shells in." She walked over to the peanut counter, got another little cardboard container, brought it to the table, and without another word slid it over in front of Steve.
I was good. I wasn't saying a word. It was dead silent at the table. Until Wretch and I made eye contact.
Life is good.