I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…Kids are the Bane of my existence
Hell, demon kids, entitlement junkies Add commentsKids are evil. Kids are evil little monkeys bred to become big evil monkeys bent on destroying the way of life that we’ve become so accustomed to. They’re defended by evil parents, who were raised evil by their evil parents. Maybe evil is a harsh word. Stupid is a better one, at least for the parents.
Kids today are allowed to do anything they want without fear of retribution from their parents due to the constant allegations of child abuse. We no longer flog them when needed, we let them do whatever without so much as a “No little Billy, that’s wrong.” Little Billy could kill his neighbors cat, roast it over a spit in Boy Scouts, and feed it to his friends, and nobody would do anything about it for fear of being accused of child abuse.
When they go out to eat, kids run the show. “I want this, Mommy.” pointing to the most expensive steak on the menu. “That’s too much money, honey, how about this nice cheeseburger.”
“I SAID I WANTED THAT STEAK!” it’s almost like the child transforms into a demon, face red and steam coming from his ears. Mother gives in.
Little Billy then gets up and goes skating around on his Heely’s. Mommy just looks at him with a smile on her face, as she lifts her third Cosmopolitan, saying to her girlfriends who are also drinking their Cosmopolitans, “Isn’t my Billy just so cute?”
Enter the Ribeye, carrying a tray of 5, very hot, steaming plates of food. The Ribeye tries very hard to balance the tray on his shoulder, while still trying to see where he is going. The Ribeye happens to be quite tall, therefore cannot see little imps wearing skate shoes sent from Hades. BillyImp skates in front of the Ribeye, whilst laughing. The Ribeye stumbles, and tray of 5 very hot and steaming plates of food nearly falls to the ground. Ribeye saves the tray, and manages to recover balance. He glares at the child, and yells out in rage, “This is NOT a skating rink. You can’t use those in here.”
Little BillyImp, demon that he is, yells back, “You’re not my momma, you can’t tell me what to do.” The Ribeye then wishes that the law were on his side, and punting a child across a restaurant was not illegal. Ribeye continues walking toward table, and drops off food. Ribeye then goes to see Spineless Mother, former incubator and current slave of Little BillyImp. “Ma’am,” Ribeye begins, “Your son cannot skate around this restaurant, it’s a hazard to the employees and other guests.”
“How dare you tell me what my child can and cannot do? How can you presume to tell me how my child is raised.” Spineless Mother is no longer spineless when it comes to defense of her Master. Newly Spined Mother’s blonde hair becomes rising flame, eyes become black as charcoal, long pink fingernails become 2 foot long bloody talons. The demon within emerges.
“Ma’am, I’m just telling you the rules of the restaurant. You have to keep your child under control. If something happens to him, we cannot be held responsible, as you are the one who is supposed to be responsible for your child in the first place.”
Flames issue from the mouth of the newly emerged She-Demon. “Send me your manager.”
Ice chips fly from the mouth of the Ribeye as he replies, “At your service, Ma’am.” Ribeye leaves, wishing he had shoes with wheels just like little BillyImp. Manager J the Impartial. Ribeye then stands to the side, watching with intensity. She-Demon and Manager J the Impartial converse, and Ribeye notices the Cosmopolitan resting in the claws of She-Demon begin to bubble. She-Demon is not pleased with the results of the confrontation.
Ribeye continues working, warm in the fact that She-Demon and Little BillyImp have been chastised. Ribeye returns to the kitchen to retrieve She-Demon’s dinner. On the way out of the kitchen, Little BillyImp again skates in front of Ribeye. This time, Ribeye trips on Little BillyImp. Tray of hot food falls from Ribeye’s shoulder, despite all efforts to contain it. It tumbles down Ribeye’s body, rolling like an avalanche of lava, scalding his lightly covered torso. Rage boils in the Ribeye’s cold blood. He then notices that Little BillyImp has been smashed in the head by the falling debris of cheap china plates, and is now crying in anguish.
“MOMMY!!!” little BillyImp screams. “This mean man hurt me!” Ribeye chances a look up, whilst trying to help the little imp from his position on the ground. She-Demon is glowing with her own rage, the flames on her head are now reaching the deepest red. “How dare you…HOW DARE YOU!!! You’ve hurt my baby!” Her talons swing toward the Ribeye, grazing his arm lightly, but enough to cause pain. Ribeye is further enraged, but keeps to himself for fear of retribution. “Your baby hurt himself, Ma’am, by skating into my legs while I carried a tray. I wasn’t able to move, and it’s your fault for not controlling him better.” Temper lost, Ribeye leaves She-Demon and Crotch Spawn whining on the floor, and goes to hunt Manager J the Impartial.
Manager J the Impartial fills out incident report, and She-Demon signs, blood from her grotesque talons searing the parchment as she moves the quill. Little BillyImp has a bump on his head, and Ribeye gets no compensation for his service of the table. She-Demon then calls corporate BigWig, and tells that Ribeye is an evil man who hurt her spawn on purpose. BigWig tells her that he’s been informed of the incident, and that Ribeye told her correct in saying that the evil skate shoes were not permitted, and that she should have taken care of her spawn in the first place.
What actually happened:
I nearly tripped over the brat once, and the 2nd time I tripped over the brat I dropped the tray. The food scalded my chest, and I was pissed. I yelled at the child, and he yelled for his mother. His mother yelled at me, and I stood my ground. I’d already told her once that Heely’s weren’t allowed and she needed to control her child because we wouldn’t be held responsible should something happen.
I told her more than once to keep her child in line. I told the brat that he couldn’t skate in the restaurant. His mother let him do what he wanted, and he suffered because of it. Children can not be allowed to do whatever they want. When he skated after being told not to, his mother should have blistered his ass in the bathroom and then cancelled their order. She should have paid for those Cosmopolitans, and taken her crotch-spawn home. Instead, she let him get away with whatever, and then claimed no fault in the incident that followed.
Kids are the Bane of my Existence and they should be banned from this reality.
You might have noticed more of a fantasy feel to this post. I’m considering an ongoing series like this, combining my fictional writing style with my non-fiction relation of work events. I might even give you all a series of short stories that are based on real life, but are nothing but fantasy. Who knows what I’ll do.
I’m the Ribeye of your Dreams….and I’m not your everyday blogger…but I’m still the hottest and the funniest!
Ribeye
No tag for this post yet.Related Posts:
Loading ...
November 30th, 2007 at 6:54 am
Write these however you want…just continue to write. This is your best post yet!
I don’t know about the “hottest,” but you are definitely one of the funniest.
Peace,
- Dennis
http://www.donttipthewaiter.blogspot.com
November 30th, 2007 at 7:15 am
Ribeye, can’t you ask the BigWigs in charge to make it a policy that kids (or adults for that matter) can’t wear Heelys in your restaurant? They’ve banned them in the mall at Clarksville. They’ve banned smoking in your restaurant - why not these Made In Hell shoes?
November 30th, 2007 at 8:49 am
I HATE …HATE HATE HATE those damn heelies!!
whoever invented those…is going to suffer. In this life,and the next. I hope.
November 30th, 2007 at 10:44 am
Christ. You poor thing…
November 30th, 2007 at 11:33 am
Heelies are a tool of Satan.
That being said, if either one of my children ever spoke to you in such a way or behaved as this little beast did, I would personally punt their ass.
My kids can be a handful. But I can guarantee you that if they act up in a restaurant it will only last as long as it takes me to drag/carry them out the door while hubby gets a box for my dinner and leaves a big fat tip for the poor wait staff who had to deal with us.
November 30th, 2007 at 1:10 pm
Have you seen these fat-assed kids, the size of baby whales, being pulled around stores by their parents, Heely’s gliding them effortlessly along? So now they don’t have to walk and don’t have to actually exert any effort to “skate” through places.
Lazy, fat lardos!
November 30th, 2007 at 4:23 pm
Oh, my god. I *hate* those Heely things. We have a restaurant around the corner — a family restaurant type place — that has signs that skates of any kind are not allowed, and yet I frequently see kids zipping around, their parents oblivious.
I don’t get these parents. I notice *most* of these oblivious, totally permissive parents are in their 40s, so I wonder if it’s a generational thing. I don’t let my kids be obnoxious in public, although once in a while it’ll earn me a scolding from some busybody who entreats me to “let them be kids.” You really can’t win.
November 30th, 2007 at 10:21 pm
Ribeye, just by way of some criticism, skip the “what really happened” in the future posts. This was marvelous and we could tell what was going on; you didn’t have to explain. Yes, definitely keep doing these. Love the bloody talons.
December 1st, 2007 at 1:25 am
My children don’t behave like this at all, I suppose you just get the bad eggs. Have any well behaved children ever visited your establishment?
December 1st, 2007 at 3:13 am
OMG.
It’s people like that who make all parents look bad.
My daughter would NEVER, EVER have been so goddamned rude to ANYONE. If she had EVER pulled shit like that in a public place, I would have busted her ass for it, period.
But then, I taught my daughter, who is now 13, manners, and EXPECT HER TO FUCKING USE THEM. And, furthermore, I’m not her friend, I’m her MOTHER. My word is LAW, and I don’t tolerate the shit that some of her classmates give their parents.
Oh, and concerning Heelys? My daughter’s friends know that they cannot wear those evil fucking shoes if they plan on going ANYWHERE with me. Heely’s don’t come in my car, let alone in the goddamn mall (why do all teenagers want to hang out at the mall? it wasn’t exciting when I was doing it, and it’s no more exciting now…), or a restaurant, or anywhere else that’s not a skate park or someone’s driveway.
I hate parents like Dragon Lady, mother of Demon Spawn. I really fucking do.
December 1st, 2007 at 5:20 am
I had a table of 2 kids under 7, their parents and grandfather. One of the children couldn’t make up his mind between a shrimp dish and a $25 piece of fish. Of course, mommy let her son go back and forth and the kid was actually smiling over the fuss he was causing. Finally, grandpa said, “For the love of God he’s a 6 year old! He’s getting the spaghetti and that’s that. Stop wasting this poor girl’s time!” The boy started to throw a tantrum but grandpa held his ground. When the food came he refused to eat and grandpa said, “Good! Then you’ll go home hungry.” The kid then cleaned his plate and the nonsense was over. This kid didn’t need a spanking, just rules. Today’s parents don’t realize that kids want and need guidelines. Old school child rearing works and it would behoove today’s parents to revert back to it.
December 1st, 2007 at 12:40 pm
I loathe the hell shoe wearing demon spawn. I work in a department store. On Black Friday I was working the 4am-10am shift putting out new clothes as people shopped. A young demon girl child was skating around the crowds and stumbled into a rack of picture frames across from my department. I said, “Please don’t skate in the store.” She nodded and walked away. I go back to putting out my High School Musical hoodies. When I turn to grab some dresses off my rack and put those out I see demon child skating again. Little old man shopping for granddaughter comes out of an aisle and surprises demon girl. She dodges left, collides with rack of shirts, and down she goes with a long whining cry. Mom yells at me for having a messy rack that hurt her daughter, I tell mom that if daughter was told not to skate in the store and that if she listened she wouldn’t have fallen and of course her daughter denied getting a warning. The grandfather came to my rescue saying he heard me tell the child not to skate, and then added that the mother should be ashamed for raising such a disobedient and disrespectful child before getting in line to check out. He was my hero of the day.
December 2nd, 2007 at 2:18 am
It cuts both ways.
My now 16 year old discovered the joys of good meat when I took her to an upscale place when she was 12. She has not been a cheap date since. Golden corall and she will have the soup and salat. Take her to a decent place and it is the 16 ounce ribeye medium rare (overcook it and it’s going back)
We found many places would not serve medium rare to some one under 16. And many of the wait staff would/could not comprehend a 12
year old tearing into something so gargantuan in their eyes. I ussualy had to intercede and say do what the young lady asks.
Those who made my angel happy were rewarded with an extra 5-10%. Those who made momma
order for the 13 year old and the 13 year old order for monmma, got the standard tip or less. (momma won’t eat anything unless it is double dead and cooked beyond taste.
The good staff always got a kick out of the 13 year old asking if she could kiss the chef if it was above average. This child knows her meat. The others gave me a look of disdain for allowin someone so young to eat something so huge.
She never left a scrap. She is also not of the large variety. If she indulges she just runs two miles the next day to work it off.
December 2nd, 2007 at 4:23 am
I would have killed that child.
-Atleast EXTREMELY injured.
That’s ridiculous and i’m sorry you had to go through that.
December 29th, 2007 at 3:11 pm
Try dropping a 60 lbs buss-tub on top of a little devil with those god forsaken shoes. I am the busser/dishwasher, which usually means I don’t have to deal with people much. It’s usually great. However, I was ran into by one of those little brats wearing those, fell over, dropped my full tub, and barely missed the little shit. This was right in front of the open fireplace. And Mom has the nerve to try yelling at me.
January 11th, 2008 at 10:34 am
fuck the law i will kiss where ever and whenever get it and fuck zuma