…Said to me by a ten year-old boy today at work.
The statement came from a conversation started about favorite breakfast places in town. I saw the man-child giving advice via cell phone to someone named “Laurent” on where the best place in town to get pancakes is. I hadn’t gaged his level of intelligence appropriately yet, so seeing a small boy in front of me, I asked him in high inflection, “You like pancakes?”
The boy stared at me dead pan and said, “I’m into gourmet cooking.”
That was the point I got a good look at the little monster. He had a Ralph Lauren button down on with the collar turned up. His hair was in that categorizable Hampton Douche-do. He started to go on about how his favorite food is Italian, but his favorite Italian restaurant is in Japan, not Italy. He then made some sort of quip about how they shipped little old grandmothers from Italy and put them in the back kitchen of his favorite Italian restaurant in Japan. I tried to retort with, “Oh, I can just picture them all in mourning with crosses mumbling over the stove.” to which he replied snarkily, “No, this was in the evening.”
Luckily, the doctor behind Yuppie Frankenstein came to collect and pushed him out the door as he mumbled on about plastic bags taking 10,000 years to decompose. A customer came up and we laughed at the Chuck Bass-in-training.
As she walked away, I looked out the window and thought, “I want one of those creatures someday…”
A few days prior, I was at the grocery store, combing coupons and mouthing along the words of “Say Goodbye to Hollywood” by Billy Joel. The song was interjected by a man on the PA with a heavy Texas drawl, “Jimmy P. Matthews, yo momma is waiting for ya at the front. Jimmy P. Matthews, yo momma is waiting for ya.” I couldn’t stop laughing. I pictured a wall-eyed child in overalls and flannel running like a squirrel through the frozen aisle. I’m sure this sight was just as funny as a girl with four inch roots standing in the back of the store, squinting at a wall of coupons, laughing wildly at apparently nothing.
I wonder what would happen if Gordon Gekko Jr. above and Jimmy P. Matthews met. I wonder what their conversation would go like?
Gordon Gekko Jr.: You know, my shirt is made from the finest wool in the mountains of New Zealand.
Jimmy P. Matthews: (grunt sound)
Gordon Gekko Jr.: Jimmy, what are your clothes made out of?”
Jimmy P. Matthews: (grunt sound)
Gordon Gekko Jr.: Do you know it will take a hundred years for your flannel shirt to decompose, Jimmy?”
Jimmy P. Matthews: No, I didn’t, you pretentious piece of shit. Now, why don’t you and your Brooks Brothers wearing ass crawl back into your mother’s four-star uterus?
1 Comment
Kids like that are reason 36 that I don’t want children.