Thursday, January 10, 2008

When Bastards Watch Your Kids so You Can Go Out on Your Birthday:

“Applebee’s, this is Cass,” she sounded calm. I listened for the mad roar of a packed restaurant in the full swing of a rush—it wasn’t crazy. My plan could procede.

“Cass, my brother in law and his wife are eating there right now. It’s his birthday, but he’s one of those guys who won’t tell his server and get his free cake. If I describe him to you, could you find his server and let ‘em know it’s his birthday?”

I know it’s annoying and not many of us enjoy the parade of servers clapping their hands and signing their company’s approved birthday song. But goddamnit, birthdays stop being cool the second you have the ability to buy your own stuff, I had to do something to liven up the event.

Cass laughed, and asked me to describe them.

“They’re a bigger couple. He’s wearing a black, long sleeved shirt with white stripes going down the sleeves,” I say, checking the notes I secretly took when they dropped their kid off. “She’s in a grey top, dark pants. It’s just the two of them.”

A few seconds of silence passed as she scanned her restaurant. “Got ‘em. I’m looking right them.” she says. I knew when I called there was a chance that “Going to dinner” meant “Going back home for no-baby-in-house sex," and they might not be there getting dinner. I didn’t really care, I would have watched their brat either way. But I was glad they were there. This was much funnier.

“Cass, you are awesome to the awesometh power.” She agreed with me and got off the phone. I flipped my phone shut and smiled my satisfied bastard's smile.

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