I went back and forth with Denise on where to go for dinner for our first date. She was pretty insistent on a buffet that was best known for its fried steak. I had something a bit more upscale in mind, but she was married to the idea, and so that's where we went.
Once we sat down with our food piles, she handed me a little canvas bag with a strap. At first I thought it was a bib. But no.
"Strap it on," she said, "It's a feed bag."
I said, "Am I a horse? I'm not wearing a feed bag."
She said, "Guys eat like horses. You'll wear it or I eat at another table."
"I'm not wearing it."
She took it back and said, "Okay, then." She picked up her food and carried it to another table. I didn't follow her, though I did glance at her as I ate, and between the two of us, she definitely could have used a strap-on feed bag more than I could. Meaty juices ran down her chin and once she had used the heck out of her only napkin, she used her arm.
Once she was done, she stood up and left without looking at me. Small price for me to pay for a bit of entertainment, I guess.
OP and his date are actually both horses, but OP longs for the day he will finally be a human.
ReplyDeleteThis could be he origins of chunky horse.
ReplyDeleteChunky Horse's cuisine of choice is souls... not sure they'd fit in a feed bag...
ReplyDeleteJarrrrred is always so clever when he changes the names. OP, did she have the odor of sour mayonnaise, did the floor quake under each step and did people run screaming from the buffet as she approached? 'Cause if they did, that was Fizziks.
ReplyDeleteNow, Archie, you know I don't go sharing my Sunday-best feedbag on the first date! But it's clear this chick is stealing all my moves :( After all, I like to know that a man can really throw down at a buffet before the date goes to its inevitable conclusion. And by inevitable, I mean that if I can't get someone to become acquainted with me in the biblical sense soon, my passage will become sealed shut from relentless guano of the colony of bats that moved in.
ReplyDeleteWait. Why's it important that the place was best known for its fried steak? I thought that was going to come back. Maaaan. And I feel ya, Fizziks.
ReplyDeleteRemember when they at least pretended the story was supposed to be believable? "When I showed up at the restaurant, Becky pulled out a pistol and shot me. I died. Alas, no second date."
ReplyDeleteThis was a test to see if you're a selfish lover... and you failed, OP! As the common equestrian saying goes: "If the date doesn't eat steak at the bag, he won't eat fish at the Y."
ReplyDeleteAnd on Thanksgiving, fish at the Y tastes like Pumpkin Pie.
ReplyDelete