Monday, September 29, 2008

Oh my Lord...!

Today's lunch at the Golden Corral will be my last. Everyone there knows me, especially Della, the waitress. Why would I leave and never go back, you ask. Here's why:

Della: Hi hon, how ya doin'?
Me: Aside from a small tiff with the supervisor, I'm doing fine.
Della: Can I pour you some more coffee?
Me: Sure. How's your day going?
Della: We're short staffed in the kitchen, Frank went home sick this morning.
Me: Oh the poor thing, did he have the flu or something?
Della: No, it was anthrax.
Me: CHECK PLEASE!

And the sad thing is, Della was dead serious.

2 comments:

ChrisEldin said...

OMG! are you serious? I haven't heard anything in the news...

She must be mistaken though. That doesn't make sense. Really...

Madge Sinclair said...

Oh yeah, I knew I left something out. Della has a bad left ear. She may have heard one disease and thought it was anthrax. It did scare her pretty bad, though, she hadn't had a bowel movement all day...

A sassy, gassy, hip, old Braud from Kansas City cuts loose on the internet.