I recently had a bad day which I will tell you about in case you are interested in hearing about Behr's bad day. It all began with an important early morning business meeting regarding the Civil War Action Figures I sell and market with the assistance of working families sending an uncancellable check for $70,000 to my off-shore bank account. Although you can no longer get in on the ground floor, our company has yet to manufacture anything to sell to anyone and make any profit, so you can still invest if you are interested.
Following the meeting at which I watched an older woman in a plaid skirt drink more than one bloody mary while howling with laughter at recent profitability reports, I caught a cab to return to my home in Baltimore. There was something amiss with the cab driver who was possibility of being on drugs due to his erratic and shameful behavior, including a long monologue about his father making him behead chickens in his youth. The cab ride went on for many hours and I thought it might never end and finally he had to stop for a traffic light and I leaped out of the cab and ran for my life. The unfortunate thing about this was that one of my shoes came off, a lefty, in the cab and I was forced to run through the streets of rugged old Baltimore with only a sock on my left foot. In addition, because the sock elastic was not of top quality manufacturing, it flopped down and put me in a position where I had four to six inches of footless sock extending from beyond my large toe. This four to six inches of footless sock was able to gather a great deal of street dirt as well as accumulating a lot of wetness in the form of water and other, less palatable wetnesses.
After my wallet was stolen by someone visiting from the nation's capital and I tore my pants while sitting on a fire hydrant staring into the windows of a KFC wishing I still had my wallet, a station wagon pulled up next to the curb where I was standing. Inside was a nice American family asking if I needed some help. I told them I was very much in need of help and they put me in the car with them, whereas them includes a mother, a father and two sons of a young age. I gave them my sales pitch during the ensuing ride but they did not offer me a check. Instead they asked if I was hungry and if I wanted to have dinner with them. I hastily agreed because I was hungry and long for family style dining with a real American family. Sometimes I eat meals with my friend Dale and his wife, but that isn't like dining with a regular American family because Dale's wife comes on to me with her hand signals, lip movements and by playing games with our feet under the table.
I was introduced to the couple as John and Mary and the children were named Bobby and Brickhead. They took me into their home, a modest Colonial style two story house on the outskirts of old Baltimore. We went inside and I had a cognac and some cheese and crackers with John while Mary busyied herself with cooking dinner in the kitchen. The boys played with Tinker Toys on the floor while we enjoyed cognac of questionable vintage and quality.
Then dinner was served. It was spaghetti with meatballs. The first thing I noticed was that I was only given spaghetti and sauce. There was not a meatball on my plate, but the other members of the family had three or four on theirs. I inquired about this and was given a stern look by Mary. Things got progressively worse when I asked if they could pass the parmesan cheese and they said, "No." It was a very plain and simple no and I did not ask again.
Before I could taste the first bite of spaghetti with sauce and no meatballs in sight, a handicapped or crippled man ambled into the dining room and swatted at me with his cane, which was cheap metal and not a nicely carved wooden number. After he struck me three times with his cane, I asked him what was the matter. Mary answered, telling me that I was sitting in Uncle Earl's chair. So, I got up. I waited for another place to be offered at the table, but John erected himself from his seat and got a folding card table from another room along with a plastic chair intended for children. He erected these things next to the dining room table and bade me to seat myself there. Please note that at this time my sock was still wet and dirty and extended four to six inches without foot in that part of the sock.
I waited for another plate of spaghetti, perhaps this time including at least one meatball for my trouble in evacuating to this poor table and seat intended for children, and I was hopeful when Mary went into the kitchen. She returned with a plate that did not match the plates on which food was being served at the main dining table, which was odd because there were five people at the table, all with matching dinnerware and no one sells dining sets in placings of five only. I was given a plate that had been through the mill. It had a piece missing from one side and hairline fractures in various places. It was also a tacky color.
Instead of spaghetti, with or without meatball or meatballs, there was something else on the plate. I was not sure what it was, but when I looked at it and then looked sheepishly up at Mary, she snarled, "Leftovers." It appeared to be some unfortunate, and normally not eaten, animal's intestinal track, but it was also severely discolored in many places and some parts of the intestinal track were softer than others. Much of it was very hard and had discolored bumps of the gray variety emenating from the hardness of those particular areas. A couple times I believe I spied hairs of an unknown type protruding from the bumps. There was also a pile of corn, which was hard and inedible and contained a quantity of mealworms.
I asked if I could have something else to eat. My question made Mary start to cry and she ran from the room. Uncle Earl received seven meatballs on his plate and when I inquired about his ability to share one of them, he swung his cane and opened a gash in my forehead. At this point I decided to make a break for it, but I wasn't sure I could battle my way past wily old Uncle Earl so I asked if I could go to the bathroom. I was forced to eat a chunk of the intestinal track and a forkful of corn before I could go, but I made as if my bladder were about to explode and they let me go to the bathroom, where I did not pee because I did not really have to. I waited in the bathroom for several moments and then threw open the door and ran pel mel towards the front door. Luckily, it was unlocked and we were on a bus line and the bus was just arriving.
Now I have to go buy a new pair of shoes.