MORON-diments
Sitting in a café, reading your favorite paperback while waiting for your friend. Here comes the waiter. He trips. Spills that grande iced latte he’d just cleared from the other table. But wait! He didn’t just spill it on you, the darn-blasted latte found its way to your cream-colored jogging pants you’d just bought yesterday. Initial reaction was, you stood up, and screamed at the waiter for being such a klutz while trying to wipe away the spill that he made on your pants.
The waiter picks himself up, looks for a napkin to wipe your pants with while saying his sincerest apologies. You looked at him. Stared. He looks familiar. Then it dawned on you…he’s the same guy you’ve been stalking (in a non-pervert kind of way) everytime you go jogging in the park. You gently pat him on his shoulders then say you’ve accepted his apologies. By this time, you totally forgot about your cream-colored pants you had to save your two-months-salary for.
He sits with you and asks what he can do to make up for his stupidity. He thinks for a while then asks you out for dinner. You thought for a second. Just a second. You realized you had just been recently single and it’s now safe to go out with another guy. You accepted his invitation. He asks for your number, which you gladly gave. Then comes your friend who’s already 15 minutes late.
By 4:00 in the afternoon you got home. The phone rings almost immediately after you closed the door. It’s him. The moron who spilled latte on your pants. He asks if he could pick you up at 7:00. You declined. You said you’d just meet him at the restaurant.
7:00pm. Italian restaurant a few blocks from the café. As soon as the taxi stopped you saw him. Waiting by the restaurant’s door, he’s wearing a suit. You ask yourself, “is it just me or is he really gorgeous?” He saw you. Walked to your taxi, opened your door. “It’s going to be one hell of a night,” you told yourself. And it was.
The waiter picks himself up, looks for a napkin to wipe your pants with while saying his sincerest apologies. You looked at him. Stared. He looks familiar. Then it dawned on you…he’s the same guy you’ve been stalking (in a non-pervert kind of way) everytime you go jogging in the park. You gently pat him on his shoulders then say you’ve accepted his apologies. By this time, you totally forgot about your cream-colored pants you had to save your two-months-salary for.
He sits with you and asks what he can do to make up for his stupidity. He thinks for a while then asks you out for dinner. You thought for a second. Just a second. You realized you had just been recently single and it’s now safe to go out with another guy. You accepted his invitation. He asks for your number, which you gladly gave. Then comes your friend who’s already 15 minutes late.
By 4:00 in the afternoon you got home. The phone rings almost immediately after you closed the door. It’s him. The moron who spilled latte on your pants. He asks if he could pick you up at 7:00. You declined. You said you’d just meet him at the restaurant.
7:00pm. Italian restaurant a few blocks from the café. As soon as the taxi stopped you saw him. Waiting by the restaurant’s door, he’s wearing a suit. You ask yourself, “is it just me or is he really gorgeous?” He saw you. Walked to your taxi, opened your door. “It’s going to be one hell of a night,” you told yourself. And it was.
posted by cLaude at 1:52 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home