“die-ning”
so i wrote a short piece. tell me what you think.
I wonder if I started choking would anyone attempt to help me? Even if someone did I wonder if they would actually care. It probably wouldn’t even matter; everybody else seems too caught up with his or her own life to notice my misery. Everyone’s too busy multi-tasking on his or her cell phones and trying to eat. That is one of my pet peeves; when the girl you are taking out to dinner is too focused on her cell phone texting—texting what’s the point of that anyways? Who thinks of shit like that anyways, I know—corporate America—the sons of bitches. Always trying to rob us of our Washington’s, well moreso the youth of America—poor bastards.
—Good evening mousier your usual booth?
—Yeah that will be fine.
—Will somebody be joining you tonight or will it just be you?
—No…no, go ahead and pull out the extra chair from the back.
—Certainly, give me two minutes, and I should have your table ready.
—Don’t sweat it.
Seems much more packed than usual, I wonder what’s the special occasion—oh right, Valentine’s day. What the fuck—why is that even observed as a holiday, it just makes single people more aware that they have accomplished nothing in their lives, because they don’t have anyone to share it with—fuck.
—Your table’s ready mousier.
Where the hell is she? Oh—there…finally; damn she should know to stay away from striped patterns it does not complement her figure at all.
—Sorry I’m late I couldn’t figure out what to wear.
—You look fine.
Alison is a junior at U.C.L.A majoring in theatre. She has the face of an actress, but as for the body not so much. Size doesn’t bother me much; it’s what actually attracted me to her in the first place—the bigger, the better.
She orders a salad, a salad I ask, why go to a four star restaurant to order shit that grows in the dirt, and arouse it with dressings that have fancy names like balsamic vinaigrette or honey Dijon. People just make up those names so that it sounds expensive—anotherskillful tactic of corporate America raping innocent people of their money.
I order a lobster and prime rib combination for her because a garden salad is just not going to cut it. She looks at me surprised, I only respond with a shrug. While we wait for the food she talks about her life and why she moved to Los Angeles in the first place. I find a spot on her face to focus on, her plump cherry shaded lips are moving but I hear no words coming out. I take her hands and place it in mine, she stops talking—good I think to myself.
—You are beautiful.
Our food finally arrives. I wait to slice into my rack of lambs. She takes the first bite of her prime rib, it’s a good one too, made medium rare so that the succulence of the dead animal’s carcass rolls around in her mouth effortlessly. Her pudgy wrists, making no distinction of where her forearm began, carefully takes the steak knife and slices another piece. That’s hot.
—Aren’t you going to touch the lobster?
She butters the opaque but barely so substance. She chews with enough resistance to her teeth to a momentarily stop, but not before yielding to a gentle bite. Crisp and succulent—just like her body. She takes a sip of her glass of chardonnay bottoms up she must be thirsty. I pour her another glass, she refuses but I insist and pour it anyways. She wonders why I haven’t touched my rack of lambs yet, I tell her I am more intrigued with watching her eat. She continues eating all things at once, salad, steak, and lobster she opens her mouth to talk, but it’s still stuffed with food. Sexy.
—It’s not polite to stare.
—It’s polite if you see what I am looking at.
Less talking more eating I think to myself. I wait patiently. Finally it happens, the moment I have been waiting for. Alison chokes on the tail of the lobster. I sit and watch as her face turns from a flesh toned pink to a faint sky blue. She clenches her throat with both hands and begins gagging. Her breath shortens. The people around the restaurant watch in disgust as I nonchalantly sit there doing nothing.
—She’s choking! S-s-somebody help…
—She’ll be fine.
Funny thing is I am not the only one in the restaurant, why is no one else jumping out of his or her seat to save this young woman’s life. Fucking Americans and their lack of will to help anyone else but themselves.
