And I'm back.
Today's Writing Prompt: You and a friend have just finished a lovely meal at your favorite restaurant. But things take a turn when you notice that the waiter has scribbled an unexpected—and startling—message on your bill.
After a refreshing soup and salad combo on the first noticeable day of autumn, Emily and I start chatting away about everything ranging from the drastic change in weather to what our game plan for the night will be.
I don't feel like going out tonight, because honestly, I'm just not ready for evening jackets and scarves. The Seattle skyline twinkles from our window table and my spirits take a little dive thinking of all the rain that escaped us this summer just waiting around the corner in the weeks approaching.
"And for dessert, ladies, a lovely apricot panna cotta drizzled with a berry sauce," our handsome waiter announces, laying a rather large looking plate in front of each of our watering mouths.
"There must be some mistake," Emily replies. "We didn't order these."
"Rest assured madame, it is compliments of the kitchen," he winks and pulls his arm into his chest and bows respectfully away.
"Holy Christ!" Emily looks over at me, stunned at what just happened.
"Yeah I know, do you think he's hitting on me?" I ask still in disbelief.
"Um, Rebecca, are you blind or something? Because if you are, count me in instead."
"No, it's just, these things don't ever happen to me."
"I know. We did go to high school together," she responds, putting a little too much emphasis on the word "did."
"I wonder if he'll say anything when the bill comes," but my response is lost on her deaf ears, as we both continue shoveling the delicacy into our mouths.
Moments later, he returns as predicted with the check. Before either of us have a split second to even think about forming a response, he says, "I hope everything was to your liking tonight. Think about your response. I'll be waiting over there by the kitchen," he motions with his head towards the back set of double-doors.
Emily and I make brief eye contact, hastily reaching for the check at the same time -- a rare occurrence for either one of us. She wins this one out, grabbing her purse as if anticipating a phone number to type into her own cell phone.
Instead her face turns to stone.
"What? Did he ask you to marry him or something?" I joke, but her unwaivering expression lets me know something is out of place here.
"Not exactly," she trails off.
"Oh come on already, grow up and read me what he wrote."
"Alright," she looks puzzled at the letter, unsure of how to begin. "He wrote, 'My friend Paolo in the kitchen thinks you are gorgeous. He's working here illegally and needs to become a citizen in order to stay. Would you please do him the favor of marrying him so he can acquire American citizenship?'"
If I had been drinking, this would be the perfect moment to spit everything out on her face.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"No shit. Let's get out of here now," she hastily stands up and walks awkwardly past the waiter, completely ignoring his smile beaming in her direction.
And now I'm stuck with the bill. I'm seriously reconsidering going out tonight. We need to find some alcohol, fast.
Today's Writing Prompt: You and a friend have just finished a lovely meal at your favorite restaurant. But things take a turn when you notice that the waiter has scribbled an unexpected—and startling—message on your bill.
After a refreshing soup and salad combo on the first noticeable day of autumn, Emily and I start chatting away about everything ranging from the drastic change in weather to what our game plan for the night will be.
I don't feel like going out tonight, because honestly, I'm just not ready for evening jackets and scarves. The Seattle skyline twinkles from our window table and my spirits take a little dive thinking of all the rain that escaped us this summer just waiting around the corner in the weeks approaching.
"And for dessert, ladies, a lovely apricot panna cotta drizzled with a berry sauce," our handsome waiter announces, laying a rather large looking plate in front of each of our watering mouths.
"There must be some mistake," Emily replies. "We didn't order these."
"Rest assured madame, it is compliments of the kitchen," he winks and pulls his arm into his chest and bows respectfully away.
"Holy Christ!" Emily looks over at me, stunned at what just happened.
"Yeah I know, do you think he's hitting on me?" I ask still in disbelief.
"Um, Rebecca, are you blind or something? Because if you are, count me in instead."
"No, it's just, these things don't ever happen to me."
"I know. We did go to high school together," she responds, putting a little too much emphasis on the word "did."
"I wonder if he'll say anything when the bill comes," but my response is lost on her deaf ears, as we both continue shoveling the delicacy into our mouths.
Moments later, he returns as predicted with the check. Before either of us have a split second to even think about forming a response, he says, "I hope everything was to your liking tonight. Think about your response. I'll be waiting over there by the kitchen," he motions with his head towards the back set of double-doors.
Emily and I make brief eye contact, hastily reaching for the check at the same time -- a rare occurrence for either one of us. She wins this one out, grabbing her purse as if anticipating a phone number to type into her own cell phone.
Instead her face turns to stone.
"What? Did he ask you to marry him or something?" I joke, but her unwaivering expression lets me know something is out of place here.
"Not exactly," she trails off.
"Oh come on already, grow up and read me what he wrote."
"Alright," she looks puzzled at the letter, unsure of how to begin. "He wrote, 'My friend Paolo in the kitchen thinks you are gorgeous. He's working here illegally and needs to become a citizen in order to stay. Would you please do him the favor of marrying him so he can acquire American citizenship?'"
If I had been drinking, this would be the perfect moment to spit everything out on her face.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"No shit. Let's get out of here now," she hastily stands up and walks awkwardly past the waiter, completely ignoring his smile beaming in her direction.
And now I'm stuck with the bill. I'm seriously reconsidering going out tonight. We need to find some alcohol, fast.
0 comments:
Post a Comment