The Frenchman and the Fat Man
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Staying out of town on company business always lead towards to opportunity to go out to places alone and be yourself around strangers since you'll never see them again. Meals are expensed and you can exude the appearance of an eccentric business man or a passing vagrant or a combination of both. Maybe we'll find our way into interesting conversation. Will we meet the new Mrs. Ghengis tonight? Should I have asked for that second hotel key? Each night brings a different fate.
"I'll take another glass but let me pay cash for this one." She says, "I don't want the company to think I'm a raging wine-o! Ha ha!" I like the way she thinks. I'm in love already. She's seated at the bar rail in front of me, slightly to the right. Her spunky bleached blond hair could place her in the 25-year-old range, but the hint of meticiously covered wrinkles could mean up to 40. Further investigation is required.
The bar is half full. Patrons are dotted along seats along the rail and couples gathered in booth seats. The bartender asks the spunky girl if there was anything wrong with her unfinished food.
"Oh I loved it but I can't fit any more in. I need to be thin! I'm going to Jamaica next month." She prattles on. "Atkins works great. I lost 15 pounds on Atkins. I love meat but I can't eat too much of it." I hate her. Is this the only single chick in here?
MSNBC is airing a News Bulletin about Natalie Holloway. But it's not news. They have not found a body or received any confessions. The breaking news is MSNBC whining about how they are not allowed to air a piece of footage. They roll one clip over and over. It's the same clip of people walking into a jail. This gives the viewer a break from the talking heads but otherwise provides nothing. To my left the wait staff has gathered in the currently unused coat room for a giggle-fest.
Behind my table I hear a mumbled exchange.
"I'm sorry sir?"
The waitress giggles nervously. "Um, I'm sorry I didn't catch that."
"I.. don't... speak... english... very well." Mumbles the man.
"Oh ok. Can I take this plate from you?"
"I... uh.. yes?"
She giggles again, "Ok you can pay me. I'm the cashier too."
"Uh pay here?"
"Yes pay me at the table ok?"
The laborious exchange extends for a few more minutes and my divided attention turns back to the girl. The spunky girl is reading a book. Reading a book at a bar with her glass of wine. I hate her more. Behind me the hostess asks about the foreign gentleman's dining experience. "Tres bien! Very good!"
Great. French.
Six cheddar bay biscuits are placed in front of me. All else in the world could black out now as the cheddar transfusion begins. However, the Frenchman stands up and enters my view. He takes up residence next to the spunky girl at the bar.
The Frenchman leans over the bar and mumbles to the bartender. She doesn't understand him either. She reacts like she would with any incoherent drunk - she guesses that he wants a rum and coke.
The Frenchman takes his seat and lights a cigarette. He looks like the Slingblade version of Billy Bob Thornton. He makes a comment to the spunky girl. She feigns acknowledgement with a half-hearted nod as she takes a sip of wine between paragraphs. Neither the spunky girl nor the bartender seemed to understand the trouble he was having communicating.
His drink is delivered and he flashes a French Franc note at the bartender. "Oh that's really neat. I can't take it but it's really neat." She says condescendingly. "I've never seen one of those before. Actually I've never even been out of the country." The Frenchman laughs in his loss of words for a reply. He pays with his American money making sure the spunky girl can see how full his wallet is.
Pawing the condensation on his glass, the Frenchman turns towards the spunky girl to mumble another question. Annoyed she turns to him the first time. "OK I don't know what you said but I'm really trying to read here!" I love her again. No - wait. Anyone who can be that ignorant and rude to a complete stranger doesn't deserve any love.
A tense silence follows. Natalie Holloway is still dead and MSNBC is still whining through closed captions. The entree has not arrived yet. The Frenchman lights a second cigarette. The tension hangs. No one is speaking save the occasional giggle from the coat room.
The spunky girl rises in a huff. "Ok, no offense but I really wasn't looking for you!" The Frenchman has no idea what she said but the message was clear. He mentally writes another bullet point on his 'Why I hate America' list:
- Bitchy American girls who think they're all that
- Fat stupid Americans and the bitchy American girls who enable them
"Are you here on business?" She asks the fat man. "I'm here on business. I sell shampoo. I have all kinds of shampoo. It's really a good gig. I am out on business a lot and I always meet a lot of people. I like to travel the country. Here is a list of the places that I have been." The entire bar can hear her. "I make a lot of money selling shampoo. I bet you make a lot of money too, but enough about you, more about me me me me."
The Frenchman is pouring his 12 oz cocktail into an 8 oz plastic cup, spilling half of it on the bar. Natalie Holloway is still dead. The same clip of the jail is played for the 30th time. The Frenchman is laughing quietly to himself. The crab legs are cold.
Finally the bitchy girl and the fat man leave together and if ears could breathe, they would have collectively sighed in relief. At their parting, the Frenchman leans over the bar. He asks the bartender where a nearby bar is. The Frenchman spoke in clear and perfect English. The Frenchman no longer appeared to be drunk. The Frenchman wasn't even a Frenchman! He could speak English after all. The glassy, glazed over look on his face melts away and the formerly mentioned Frenchman appears to be on a mission.
A few dollars, American dollars, are thrown on the bar. The Frenchman exits the Red Lobster exuding determination. Was he FBI? CIA? A bounty hunter? French Mafia? Perhaps little Miss Bitchy was really a Mrs. Bitchy in disguise and she was looking for a new Mr. Bitchy for the night. Was the Frenchman pursuing the couple in the husband's interest? Or was it jealous rage?
What do you do?
Follow the Frenchman to his car and slash his tires... page 86.
Follow the bitchy girl and the fat man and be ready to call the police if the Frenchman shows up... page 22.
Finish your beer and forget it ever happened... page 29.
Go home and write a post about it on the internet... page 298
Use the bow and arrow on the dragon... page 99.
posted by Ghengis @ 10:34 PM,
3 Conflict(s):
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At August 29, 2005 at 1:43 AM,
revidescent has news of...
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page 99, then go post about it
or maybe stalk the frenchman and take webcam photos and post those.
did you get the secret thing?
i got yours. thanks! -
At August 31, 2005 at 12:17 AM,
Ghengis has news of...
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page 99
You pull tight the string of your bow and aim an arrow towards the dragon's head which is billowed in smoke.
"Loose!" cries the Frenchman.
Unaware that you were being watched, you turn your attention to the Frenchman. In your surpise you let the arrow fly and it comes crashing into the head of the Frenchman.
He staggers around the bar bewildered as he mutters nonsense to the surrounding patrons. No one thinks anything of his headwound since the arrow-through-the-head gag is overdone in France as it is. The hostess escourts the man from the building while scolding him for tactlessly hitting on the customers.
The dragon rolls over and offers to share his treasure with you.
The End
I should have taken pictures with my camera phone.
Of course I have the secret. -
At September 7, 2005 at 8:45 AM,
supine has news of...
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Maybe it's just that men who look "like the Slingblade version of Billy Bob Thornton" really really need a gimmick in order to pick up women.
Cheddar bay biscuits sound very good.
