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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Monday, 20 October 2014

The toothpick

'I don't imbibe in alcohol,
Nicotine and "herbs" don't
work my taste buds,
so I'm often caught in battle
against the toothpick,
after the scent of beef
has made me sick!'

La Cherri.

Dining alone is complicated. You have to find ways to make it look professional. I'm a good looking man (some things you'll never see) yet, I often find myself at dinner tables, eating the finest meals all alone. Which as you know , don't often come from the finest places.
Today I'm at la Cherri. My mother had been here, she always tries to keep in touch. Tells me I have the heart of my father; cold. It's no wonder I like to be alone. No one likes to stay around the cold without a heater. Ayeh, life changes you, I've been through a lot, haven't we all? So now I'm a foodie, it's where I find my joy. Fighting gluttony like any other addict caught in a trap.

"Excuse me! What is this?" Said the guy besides me to the waiter.
"Sir please, tone it down and tell me what the problem is." she said.
"TASTE THIS!" He spat to her face and stained her little white dress, dropped his utensil in fury and excused himself.
She looked like a stained rabbit, the poor thing. She run off to the back crying in shame.
At that point I was boiling, I hate to see innocent people hurt for no reason, it gives me flashbacks.

I pulled out a toothpick from my beard. I always kept one for some reason. Broke it in half and crept up behind the fool. He was taking a piss, so he didn't see me coming. I held him by his mouth, he tried to scream. Stubbed his chubby tummy to the right and poked in two tiny toothpick holes. Turned him round and made him sit in the cherry like urinal and his ass swallowed it whole.
He could barley understand what was happening, and I probably looked like a terrorist to him..
"Look at you, you FAT Bastard!" I said, barking like a coach. "I bet all that food won't help you now, huh?"
"Who are you?"
"Your gym instructor.'' I tried not have a crack at my own nonsense, rubbed my chin for a moment thinking of how to kill him. Then I had knocks on the door.
I stubbed him twice below his throat in quick motion. He was probably in a puddle of his blood by the time they opened My escape route was a narrow window.


Another diner, same old loner...
A four eyed fellow played the piano aside the bar.. He was good, a little rusty maybe.. The bass guitar sprung good vibes with each note plucked. There is a mystery in music. When the dark minors floated through the air, this drunk slur grabbed the waitress' ass. The worst thing about this restaurant was the little attention paid to the waiters. I once had a friend of mine quit because their boss never gave a goat's shit about them. So they'd be harassed like little church children.

"HEY! Have some FUCkin decency in you.." I barked at the fool..
"who said that?"
He was too drunk, was probably seeing crossed eyed...
I whispered, " your doctor."
Then he turned to me.. " was it you sir poking your short nose in my lunch?" I wondered if he's British accent was caused by the stars he was drinking.
'who gets drunk drinking dom pérignon?'
'What a waste of champagne! He clearly had he's mind on seeing stars and not drinking them'
"Oui.. you little tramp"
He called the waitress as she passed by,
"Please don't call me that sir, it's restaurant policy to wear these"
She thought her attire caused the fire from his foul mouth..
" I don't give a hoot.... Where is my food?" he slurred
"Sir you just made your order, You've been here only a few minutes, may I attend to someone else, please?"
" what kind of service is this, ey? I'd rather have diner at bloody slaughter house..."

'where you'd be the one to come quick?'
He's manners were sheepish, he frustrated me.
The he started rocking back and forth on the chair.
We were three people in the restaurant, it must have been a bad day for them or just one of those Monday afternoons.
The female dining away from us was too busy on her I pad to notice what was happening in the real world. Until this fool fell back and rolled onto the floor like he was doing a back flip.
He tried to pick himself up but he just slipped, kicked the table and fell back to the ground. One of the waitresses upon hearing the racket came out. She tried to help pick him up and he withdrew all he's stars onto her.. Trust me, it wasn't one of those star skied moments you'd gaze at forever.
I looked away trying to reserve my anger.
"You CUNT! look what you made me do" he said to her.
I flipped! I got up, held her and asked her if she was okay. For someone smothered in throw up, she kept her calm. I figured it happened before..
I held her hand and took her to the washroom; innocent gestures with intention.
She told me she'd be okay when we got to the door.. When I turned round, the drunk fool was behind us staggering trying to make his way to the rest room
"You fink you're some kind of Jesus, ey?"
His hands were on my switch at that point, I tried to walk past him and he shoved me but he bounced off.
He pulled back he's hair and some of the throw up splattered over my face..
At this point the tooth pick was brewing between my fingers...
Sheryl came out of the ladies. (I know, strange name huh?) I had zoned out biting my jaws wondering if I should knock the fool through the door...
She held my shoulder and said thank you, I cooled off for a second.
"Oooh, look whose back, Sheryl, the stripper..hahahaha." At that point, if I were her, I'd have thrown the toilet sit over him. Although I did punch him in the face, the sad part is, as Sheryl tried to scoot past him and then he threw up over her again. She quit that very moment, dropped her apron on the floor and stormed out. Poor Sheryl...
I held him by his loose strands of shirt as I prayed he would not baptise me. Pushed him into the bathroom, he was skinny and light as a feather, I felt like a bully. I stabbed his neck with the toothpick, blood squirted all over the floor as he screamed in pain. I stabbed him again to the left side of his neck, his skin was tough, I almost didn't get in. I then kicked him to the floor. His wails faded slowly, the blood from his veins must have been draining quick..
I washed my hands and rinsed my face by the sink, straightened out my collar and rushed out hoping I'd find Sheryl...

to be continued...

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