bad reception at DQ
(originally posted 11/10/2012)
Because I’ve been known to tell a tall tale now and again I sometimes have a credibility problem when it comes to relating a story that just so happens to be true. That’s the case in the next little narrative.
I will avoid the usual clichés about how the day started off innocently enough or how it was the kind of day where anything out of the norm was likely to happen. All my days are like that so it is unnecessary. Instead I plunge right into the heart of the subject matter.
A strong desire for a large chocolate malted.
I went to order. I did a double take and then slowly and thoroughly rubbed my eyes.
There was something wrong with the young girl serving me.
The bitch was blurry!
At first I couldn’t figure it out. Obviously my first thought was that it was my eyes. Something must have flown in them or something. When I opened them everything came into crystal clear focus again… until I looked at her. Her features were slightly out of focus. I squinted my eyes and had another look. Nope. Her face was still fuzzy.
My mind raced for possible explanations. I thought of a hot desert road where the heat creates a haze on the pavement. Looking around I couldn’t see any source of heat. Certainly they can melt that creepy chocolate topping that quickly hardens after they put it on your ice cream without a blast furnace so I quickly ruled that out.
Her co-worker coming out the back was not afflicted with this odd condition so after a few seconds my logical mind raced to one inescapable conclusion: I must be standing too close.
I took a step back.
The bitch was still blurry.
She asked again what I wanted and I wanted to yell “How the fuck can I concentrate when you’re standing there all blurred and shit?!”
Too far away perhaps?
I took a step forward and leaned over the counter… my face now inches from hers.
It wasn’t a trick of the light. She was out of fucking focus. There was no other way to describe it. I couldn’t make out one clear feature. Even her freckles looked like tiny brown smudges on a shadowy canvas. Her ponytail didn’t so much end as fade off.
I quickly looked around at everyone else in line with a “Is it just me or is this bitch blurry?” look on my face.
No one paid much attention and I could have sworn I saw a few “Can you order already fuckface?” faces staring back at me.
I took a deep breath and slowly ordered with my eyes closed.
I stared at the counter as she went about making my malted.
She asked me for $4.56.
I looked up.
She was like a character on a TV station that didn’t quite come in.
I wanted to shake her or stick tinfoil on her head.
She just kept looking at me with her big dull blurry eyes and out-of-focus hands holding my completely-in-focus chocolate malted.
The next customer stepped up and began ordering. I was watching his face, wondering when he’d turn and give me a commiserating gesture about the blurry state of the bitch in front of us.
Nope. He didn’t seem to give two shits about her being one blurry bitch.
I left but then couldn’t help but wonder if it was something in the ice cream they were serving that made bitches blurry. Was she even aware of how fuzzy-looking she was?
I threw away my malted. $4.56 down the drain.
All because of that stupid girl at DQ.
She was one fucking blurry bitch.
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