I’m back you guys, and I’m back in a big way if you couldn’t tell by the name of this post.  To those of you who are offended, I’m quite sorry to you, but it was necessary to let you know the extreme seriousness with which rednecks must be dealt, and soon.

I hate rednecks with ever fiber of my being.  I hate them all.  Fat redneck women, and I don’t mean fat as in pleasantly plump, I mean fat as in forklift fat, are the worst that you’ll ever meet.

Enter the redneck family.  Fat Frannie, Bucktooth Billy, and the rebelling redneck kids, Gothic Gary and  Dumbass David.  I watch them come in about 5:15 yesterday (Saturday) and I hope and pray that they veer around the big open table I have in my section.  The gods above are angry, and they sit their asses right on down.  The kids immediately abandon their parents to go play games, and Bucktooth Billy the Dad goes to the bar to get beer and watch football.  I get to the table to greet Fat Frannie the Mom.

“Hey there, how are you today?”

“Fine.”

“My names Ribeye, I’ll….”

“We need a couple of swate tay’s, don’t you bring out no lemon now, and the boys nade uh coke and uh dr. peppah.”

“Alright, ma’am, I’ll have those right out to you.  Would you like to go ahead and get an appetizer cooking while you wait for the guys?”  As I say this, I glance down…I don’t know why I did but I wish I hadn’t.  As with most….larger..women, this woman had very large titules.  These were overly large, and they were bursting out of the little tiny sweater she was wearing.  That wasn’t what really got me though.  One of her titties, the left one (yes I had a photographic memory of this one because I needed it for this post) had a huge wart growing on it.  I’m not just talking big like you’d see on a witches nose in a cartoon, I’m talking over a quarter size in diameter and about a half inch high.  Just sitting there like it was nothing, staring up at me.  It was all I could do to not puke all over her.

“So we’ll get a free 10 dollars of games for every dinner we get?”  She’s referring to a special we have at my job (you all know where I work there’s no need to post it) where for a certain fee you get an entree and 10 bucks of gameplay.  It ends on Friday and Saturday at 5, but the managers have some leeway if the guest has been waiting for a table since before 5.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t give you that promotion.  On Friday and Saturday, that promotion ends at 5pm.  I’ll gladly get you the gameplay you’d like but it’ll have to be paid for separate from your meals.”

“But that’s the only reason we came here.  We’ve been here walking around for over 30 minutes now, it’s not our fault we couldn’t get a table.”  Fucking lying fat wart-boobied bitch.  They walked in the door at 5:15, it was now 5:30.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am, but the computer locks that promotion out at 5pm.”

“Well you better just wait on those drinks then, I just don’t know if we’ll be eating here or not now.”  That’s fine with me you fat bitch, “You just let me know once you’ve made a decision.”  I walk to another table in my section, and start talking to them.  They’re some regulars that come in every few weeks and I was really happy to see them.

We talk for about a minute, and I feel a tap on my shoulder.  I ignore it, as is my custom, when it happens again.  I look at my regulars with the look that says, “You might need to bail me out of jail soon,” and turn around.  “Can I help you?”

“Yea, Son, you need to get us a manager over here.”  It’s Bucktooth Billy.  His arm is in a sling, so apparently someone has kicked his useless ass recently, too bad it wasn’t me.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Just get the manager and don’t ask questions, Son.”  I HATE when people call me son that aren’t related to me, and even those who are don’t do it often except for Dad.

I run around looking for a manager, mainly to keep from backhanding this hick straight to the ground where he stood, and I run across Manager T the New, GM extraordinaire.  I don’t know that he’s technically still observing our store, so I get him to the table.  He comes back and tells me “They’ve been waiting for a while for a table, go ahead and give them the promotion.”  Way to pull the rug out from under me there, boss.  This means I have to ring up their gameplay separately and get it comped to the price it would be with the normal promotion, then try to explain it to these morons.  I go back to the table…

“Have you all decided what you’d like to eat tonight?”

Fat Frannie takes the lead.  “He,” pointing to Gothic Gary, “is going to have this double cheeseburger.  Just ketchup, no lettuce or any of that shit.”

“It all comes on the side, ma’am,”

“Don’t even bring it on the plate, then!  He,” pointing next to Dumbass David, “is going to have chicken strips, with a big bowl of ranch.”  “I’ll have to charge you for two sides if you get a big bowl of it, ma’am, it only comes with one small side and the bowls have 4 sides in them.”

“You better not charge for it, it already comes with it!”

“I have no choice, ma’am, I have to follow the rules.”

“FINE, I’m gonna have this chicken alfredo.  There ain’t no mushrooms or nothin in there is it?”  If you’d read the menu you’d know the answer to that question.

“No, ma’am, it’s just chicken and pasta.”  “Well whats all that green shit in the picture.”  “It’s just a sprinkle of parsley flakes for a garnish.”  “Then you lied didn’t you.  I said I don’t want anything else but the chicken and pasta.”  Well bitch, no that’s not what you said.

Bucktooth Billy decides to order for himself, “Chicken Fingers” and didn’t say anything more.   “I’ll get these into the computer and have them out just as soon as they come up.”

“Make it quick, we’ve already been waiting an hour.”  Fat Frannie orders.  Fuck you you wart-boobie bitch, and your decrepit hick hubby and your crotch spawn.

Flash Forward to when the food comes out.  Even though I had on the ticket ‘no burger set’ it still came out.  I get to the table, “I thought I told you to leave this off.”

“Ma’am, I wasn’t in the kitchen when the food was set up, and I wasn’t here when it was delivered.  I can show you the ticket where it was entered correctly, but other than that I wasn’t there to ensure it was right.  I’m very sorry, and I”ll be glad to take the vegetables off the table for you.”  As I’m reaching for a plate to put them on, she grabs them off her sons plate and throws them at me.  Did I mention that I hate fucking rednecks?

“This chicken tastes like ass, did you throw it on the fucking floor before you brought it out?”

“Once again, I wasn’t back there when your food was set up, but I’ll be glad to bring you something else.”

“Bring me a double cheeseburger like his. Make sure to bring a lot of mayonnaise too, and hurry the fuck up, they gonna be done before I get to eat.”  I’m very close to hurting them all…very close.

“Right away, sir.”  I don’t want to be fired, so I’m trying to hold my temper.  I put in his new order, and go to another table.  I’m stuck there for a minute taking an order, and I see the manager walk past me with 2 teas, and I know where he’s going.  He comes back to me, and asks me why his burger didn’t come out with the food.  They told him I forgot to ring it in, I told him what really happened, but it was too late, he’d already comped the burger off.  Fucking Bastards!!!

I go back to my regulars, and again I feel a tap on my shoulder.  I turn around, knowing full well it’s Bucktooth Billy, “You just fuckin up left an right tonight boy, this tea tastes like ass, you better bring me some more and quick.”

“Just as soon as I’m done here, sir, I’ll do it.  Please do not touch me again.”

“You getting smart with me boy?”

“I’m just telling you like it is, sir, if you touch me again I’ll snap your wrists.”  A write up, but it was well worth it.  My regulars just glared at him.

I finally get around to taking their new tea out after standing around a few minutes.  I was in no hurry, I knew I wasn’t getting tipped, and I was getting a complaint, and I no longer cared.  Fuck them.

Check time.  I have to go explain the comps to them.  It takes about 20 minutes, because even after I point things out, and show them exactly what the managers did, they still didn’t understand why they were paying 65 bucks.  The normal bill for their dinner would be about a hundred.

Rednecks are by far the stupidest people on the planet, which is where the name of this post came from.  Once again, sorry if it offended ya, but well, it had to be done.  I only wish that Fat Frannies wart gets bigger and bigger until it finally consumes her alive, and Gothic Gary feasts on the corpse.  I hope that Dumbass David and Bucktooth Billy are run over by a tractor on the farm, or stampeded by a cow or something.

Later on, before they leave, I’m cleaning up the game area, and I happen upon Fat Frannie and Bucktooth Billy near one of the racing games.  Fat Frannie tries to get into it, and can’t fit.  Bucktooth Billy ends up playing, and a black guy sits in the chair next to his.

“Oh fuck no, goddamn n****r sittin next to me.”  I took it upon myself to have him thrown out, and made sure they knew they were banned.  I don’t tolerate that shit in my place of business, and I’m not going to have some fucking redneck piece of shit start a riot either.

I can only hope I chance upon them in public sometime…

Ribeye