As soon as they sat down, mom and dad grabbed all the electric candles from surrounding tables so the kids had something to play with. I've discussed it before, but I think it's really poor parental judgement to let children play with electric candles. Their immature and mushy brains may not recognize the difference the next time they go to a restaurant that has real candles with flames. It is a recipe for disaster if you ask me, but nobody asked me and I am certainly not one to give unsolicited advice. But I'm right, right? How is a three year old supposed to know that some candles are for playing with and some candles aren't? Anyhoo, the kids were throwing the candles around, banging their cups on the table, screaming like howler monkeys in heat trying to cough up hairballs, dropping crap on the floor, and in general being a public nuisance and a big fat pain in my little ass. And then I caught a look of the father's eyes. They were glazed over with saddness. His second cup of coffee had done nothing to make him more alert and the situation seemed to be a desperate one for him. For me, this was going to last thirty minutes tops, but Dad was looking at the next 18 years of his life and it was depressing the hell out of him. I took a class in mind reading at the Learning Annex a few years ago. Madame Buluga taught me a few things so I delved into his thoughts and this is what I read:
Damn, this night sucks. I wonder if anyone would notice if I said I was going to the bathroom and instead just got on the 7 train to Grand Central and hopped a train and never came back. I have about $1200 worth of credit on my Master Card and I could get as far away as possible. Maybe change my name and get a haircut and grow a beard so no one will recognize me. I could get a nice simple job as a stocker on the overnight shift at a Wal-Mart in Topeka and live happily ever after. These kids are crazy. Why don't they behave? Oh, wait I know why; because all I do is ignore them and they have no concept of how to behave in public, that's why. And look at my wife. She looks just as pissed off as I am. Maybe she'd like to come with me to Topeka? Naah, then who'd take care of the kids? I'll leave her too, whatever. God dammit, why didn't I wear a condom three years ago? I had them. I was just too caught up in the moment to get it from the night stand. She was even telling me to put one on and I was all, "It's okay girl, I love you. Let's make a baby together." Famous last words, that's for sure. And then again two years later. She was telling me to put a goddamn rubber on and I was all, 'It's okay, baby. I love you so much. Let's give Jr. a little brother or sister. Lemme just do that for you. I wanna make another baby, baby." God, what a load of shit. If I don't get on the 7 train tonight and escape this hell, I will go get a fucking vasectomy right after we leave this restaurant. I will pay the check and go over to Snips R Us and get that shit taken care of. No more kids. And even then, I will never not wear a condom again. Ever. These kids are awful. "Hate" is a really strong word but "despise" might work. I despise my kids. Hey look at our waiter. Didn't I see him on Dr. Phil? Look at how friendly he is to his tables and so professional. His hair is amazing too. I wish I was him, not a care in the world I bet. His life is perfect. Mine sucks. You know who is hot? That chick from The View, what's her name? The red head? Joy Behar, I think. She's hot. Man, I'd love to show up at her place with some Fig Newtons and-
I lost the train of thought when he was hit on the side of his head by a coloring book that his daughter threw at him but it was just as well because I really didn't want to see where he was going with that Joy Behar thought. I gave them the check and they rounded up the kids and headed home. Hopefully he followed through on his plan to get his old boys dried out. It would be a service to himself, his wife, the restaurant industry and the world if he could assure us that he will bring no more screeching howler monkeys into existence. They come to the restaurant once a week and I'm almost willing to chip in for it. I really don't like them. They give me a headache, which is what the wife should say the next time he wants to make a baby with her.
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