More Fun With the Faggots!!!
The first waitress that came out to a table of Gil, Sullivan, William, and me on Friday night was utterly doe-eyed, under 21 with a high pitched squeaky voice. Actually, she had more of a blankness about her than an innocence. She knew of none of the beers on tap or in bottles, knew none of the names of the drinks the restaurant served, didn’t know what a black and tan was when William tried to order one, claimed she’d have to check if they served "blackened tans". Sullivan and William were equally irritated, the main drinkers of the bunch. I was slightly annoyed, as I thought if she was working there, she should know these things.
Gil seemed the most patient, but firm in asking her if the restaurant stocked very specific brands of vodka and coffee liqueur for his black russian, as he doesn’t like Kahlua. She kept going to the back to ask, coming back like 5 minutes later, going back again to ask about another type, and it took about 15 minutes to order Gil’s drink, during which time period she didn’t take any other orders. Gil was patiently fussy, as he always is with Sullivan, and I have to say, I consider him rather saintly for dealing with Sullivan’s rowdy ass. I suspect Gil is the crazier one in the relationship, though, even though my anecdotes reflect Sullivan’s insanity moreso. Because it stands out more socially and gives me something to laugh about. I see Sullivan as outwardly insane and inwardly in control of himself, and Gil as outwardly passing mostly for normal and inwardly…completely bonkers. I can tell he secretly freaks out about a lot of things, more than he likes to let on, as a lot of artistically tempered people do. He brought his oil pastels this time to draw on the butcher papered table with, instead of just asking for crayons like last time.
When our drinks were settled, and I sat with my unsweetened iced tea like always, the ridiculous waitress came to take some appetizer orders. Sullivan, still annoyed, decided to play the "What that say?" game, as he calls it. He pointed to an item near the top of the menu and asked her, in the voice of someone from the ghetto and mentally retarded, "What dis word say? I can’t pronouse it…Do it say Gorilla?" I tried to laugh quietly to myself. It said Gorgonzola, and Sullivan very well knew that. She aimed the blankness of her eyes at the word on the menu. "Gor…Gor-on-zo…Gor-on-zooooo-la" she attempted to sound out. I promptly bit my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing out loud at the girl, and at Sullivan’s brutally brilliant way of exposing her stupidity. "Gorgongola?…" Sullivan asked, "What dat? Is dat like the gonorrhea? Ma cousin got the gonorrhea from dis mayn she met at da ocean." William couldn’t stop his own loud crackling cackle at that point. I was probably turning red trying to contain my own. The waitress looked flustered and said, "Ummm…I’ll have to go check on what it is…" and walked to the back of the restaurant again.
We apparently scared this poor simple girl off, because that was the last we saw of her. Another waitress, one we’d had before, an older woman with a crowd-pleasing sense of humor, greeted us in her place, and said, while laughing, "When I saw him (and she pointed at Sullivan) in your group, I told them to seat you somewhere away from most of our other customers!" Sullivan kept the voice he’d been using with the first waitress: "So we in the colored section?" She laughed heartily and patted him on his shoulder. "You better behave, now!" she scolded while smiling. Every "Oooooh gurrrrl" Sullivan aimed at her was met with a laughing, "Behave now!" from her.
Gil drew two middle aged women’s faces with strange sinewy and cloudy lines around the tops of their heads, a big sharp ominous disc over and between them, tropical flowers and leaves sprouting from their necks, and a small tree next to them, like a memory of theirs or something equally related but inherently distant. The tree had two shaded human figures hanging on nooses from the branches, one entirely in dark blue and the other in light red. The funny waitress kept asking Gil not to mess it up, as she wanted to keep it when he left. He looked utterly confused about why anyone would think it was interesting, but agreed to try to eat neatly over it.
After we ate, Sullivan asked the waitress, slowly and in a high pitched retarded sounding mildly eastern european accent, "What you call person who have penis…who like penis…up hi’ ass…for sex?" After he uttered the word penis the second time, she began to walk away, but looked back at him and laughed hysterically. He then took out his phone, used some app he calls "Syra" (I know nothing about phone apps) that has voice recognition and is supposed to run searches based on what you say to it, and asked it the question, jumbling his words a bit. It said aloud back to him in a computerized female voice, "Sorry, Supreme Master, I can’t check your call history." I laughed so hard that he has the thing calling him Supreme Master. He asked the question again, "What you call a person who have penis…who like penis…up hi’ ass…for sex?" William chimed in after a minute with an answer: "A democrat!" he shouted. We all cracked up and a chorus of Good ones buttered William, who beamed.
Sullivan then asked Syra, "How many apples can you put inside your vagina cavity?"
I love stupid humor.