Jeff Foxworthy Watches Me Eat in Hello

He felt a hint of embarrassment and shame when it hit him, hard.
The realization that the restaurant, which is the human equivalent of a hog trough, is sponsored by the Blue Collar comedian. With an index and thumb, he slowly turned the tabletop advertisement around.

She had come back to the table with a plate stacked high that Mt. Olympus is said to have been jealous. “I like stacking and buffets, especially when I’m hungover and need something quick,” she said with a half smile that had last night’s drunken debauchery hidden in it’s corners.

A slow country song was playing overhead. “Gotta fit the stereotype,” he thought to himself. He grinned hard as he said, “I always over do it at this fuckin’ place. Like I can’t help myself. I mean hell, look at that plate you got. Its like my brain just shuts off and gluttony takes over my body.”

With a spoon in her mouth she quickly covered herself with her other hand and let out a small laugh. “Oh god I know what you mean but I need to get food in me now to stop feeling like hell.”

“How much did you drink last night, anyway?”

“Aw you know how it is, you keep filling your glass up and it becomes ‘oh you want a shot, you want a shot, sure here you go’ and next thing you know you’re drinking with everyone and having fun.”

He gave a slow nod with a muttered, “Yeah, I know.”
Behind his eyes several nights played out in his private vision of the past. Some good, some…not so good. All behind yet so recent, like opening a window on a summer night and catching a firefly of memory in your hand and looking objectively at it. All gone but here too close in the same moment before letting a wind take it away.

He shook off the odd feeling and asked, “OK, what exactly DID you drink, then?”

“Shit, what didn’t I drink,. Well, I had a few sex on the beaches, haven’t had those in years, then there was three red headed sluts, two Jagerbombs, and Bud Light chaser.”

“Jesus! I can damn near taste the bile in my mouth now…remember I when I used to chase warm whiskey with beer?”

“How can I forget, the faces you used to make were hilarious!”

“I used to think I was invincible, nowadays I’m pretty sure I was just lucky.”

Scraping a spoon through a small mound of mashed potato and an obvious packaged gravy, he finished the last bite. “Oh sweet Jesus,” he grimaced as he got up from his chair. “Well, here goes my self respect.” Like a critic admiring a masterpiece, his hands instantly went to the small of his back as he leaned his face in the dessert buffet. Chocolate fountain and three pies, ice creams with various candied toppings, and at last, wrapped in cellophane and hanging by a peg…blue cotton candy. Because if you’re going to overeat, what better than pure heated sugar wound with blue food dye. A confectionery heroin bliss, cooked just right. He already had the package open and his fingertips were blue from rolling a wad which he then tossed in his mouth.

“Oh god I love this stuff,” he said in a guttural sigh of indulgence.

“That’s what my daughter gets when we come here, she’s in love with it, too.”

“Ha, the girl has good taste then. Seriously, I’ll go to war for this stuff. Go all William Wallace and smear my face with a handful of chocolate fondue and scream ‘You can take our land but you can’t take our sugar!’”

They both busted into laughter at the mere absurdity of the thought.

She reached out to the end of the table and grabbed the napkin dispenser. When he looked over at her movements he noticed that the dispenser had moved the table ad with the famous comedians face around so he was staring dead at him An uncomfortable feeling came over him.

“I’ll be back in a minute, I have to wash my hands.” She gave a brief nod as she shoveled the last bite of food in her mouth. Before walking off he laid two dollars on top of their receipt. Coming back he noticed there were more ones on the table, so he spread them out seeing she had laid down four more ones.”

“What ya looking at what I my money for?”

“Oh, I was just curious.”

“Yeah, uh huh, wanted to see how much I left, you cheap ass.”

“Hey, a two dollar tip on a twelve dollar bill is good, besides I was thinking of leaving another bill.”

“Well, three is still twenty percent. But people who survive off tips, too, know how to tip. I know.”

They headed for the exit in silence as the last thought came across his mind…“Yeah, I know.”

She was finishing her meal as he went off to wash his hands clean of the sticky mess he had made. Coming back he noticed

Last updated August 20, 2015