Tuesday, July 10, 2012

The One Where Sky King Totally Misunderstands Social Cues

So, we were out to dinner.  The kids had been demoted, happily, to the arcade filled with Claw Games (I checked, Princess definitely could NOT fit in this one), and Sky King and I were enjoying a modicum of silence.

As much silence as we could enjoy inside a restaurant that schleps 95 kinds of burgers, and sings "Signature" birthday songs in your face when you age.

It was bliss-ish.

We had ordered, chatted with our appropriately perky server, been carded-it was looking to be a good night.

There was a lull in the conversation, each of us enjoying our own grease-scented zen moment. Then the conversation started:

Sky King: :::whispering conspiratorially::: So.  Do you think he actually killed someone?

Me: ...........................................ummmmm, who????

Sky King: Our server! (still whispering, in case the homicidal maniac bringing us our Rum Face Punchers goes psycho, apparently)
Me: :::pensively thinking.  Looking confused.  Time passes:::
Me: :::uproarious laughter:::  Dude!  That's a MOLE!!!!!!
Sky King:  No way.
Me: Way.  You need glasses.

:::Server walks by, balancing a tray full of mile high choco-cream-goo with 9 thirsty-Thursday Beer-o-ramas, smiling his winning, I-live-on-tips smile:::

Sky King: Holy shit, you're right. Wow.

Sky King had seen something in the corner of our server's eye.  Apparently, it looked like a tear drop tattoo, indicating he had shanked someone in the joint.  Instead, the server had a skin condition:

Indicators of horrifying violence

Facial anomaly.  NOT teardrop tattoo.  Really.

In other news, I will be collecting funds.  First, for a Kevlar suit in case Sky King accuses more people of being thugs.  Next, for Lasik.

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