Monthly Archives: November 2005

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Seduction

Four ladies finish their entrees. After the busgirls clear and crumb the table I bring over the dessert menus. It’s time for me to become the devil. “Ladies,” I say sweetly, “We have some excellent desserts tonight.” “Oh, nothing for me,” Bubbly Blonde replies. “No

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Just Call Me Cyrano

I’m hiding in the kitchen drinking coffee when one of my customers trespasses and walks in. I hate when people do that. “Sir,” I say warily, “What can I do for you?” “Hi,” the guy says, looking flustered. “I was wondering if you could help

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Waiter Rant has moved!!!!!

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Sibling’s

“It’s our money,” the sister says. “You’re right off course,” the brother says, “But….” “But what?” “Do we have to cut Gus out entirely?” “His life’s been a complete waste,” the sister says, brushing crumbs off the table. “Why should he get part of Mom’s

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Street Corner

It’s my day off. Getting up late I run about and do all the mundane things that need doing. I go to the bank, drop off the laundry, take the dog for a walk, and go food shopping. When I get home I clean the

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Busy

It’s 6:00 on a Saturday night and the Bistro’s already mobbed. I look at the reservation computer happily. The reservations stretch on into infinity. I’m gonna make a lot of money tonight. The phone rings. “Hello the Bistro,” I answer, “How can I help you?”

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SAW

“So did you see Saw II yet?” Armando asks. “No,” I reply, “Did you?” “Yeah. It was pretty good.” “Good as the first?” “Nothing could be as good as the first one,” Armando says. “I agree,” “Are you guys talking about Saw?” Louis interjects. “Yeah,”

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Somebody Doesn’t Like Me

A couple walks in the door. Fluvio seats them in my section. From my perch at the hostess stand I overhear the man say, “Can we sit somewhere else?” Fluvio tells them he can’t. The other sections are full. Throwing me a sideways glance the

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All Hallow’s Eve

Two shapely young women, dressed in Catholic school girl uniforms with a skirt length no nun would ever tolerate, wobble towards the Bistro teetering on top of their patent leather stiletto pumps. Waiter likes. “Damn,” I say looking through the front window, “Where were these