A waiter walked up to the table
Wearing a suit jacket that was far too small—
There was no way he could button it, and the
Sleeves came halfway up to his elbows
He sported a overlarge red bow tie
Black curly hair with oil in it, and
A large, obviously fake mustache
Which curled in waxed spirals at the ends.
“May I take your order, please?” he asked.
Before we could answer
A nude woman holding a pomegranate, with a
Bayoneted rifle slung over her shoulder
And flanked by two huge yellow and black tigers
Complained that she had been stung by a bee
And wanted her money back.
We sat for eleven minutes waiting
Then realized that ants were eating the silverware.
This entry was posted
on Friday, May 16th, 2008 at 5:55 pm and is filed under Writing Misadventures.
You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Leave a reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.