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Fancy feast

funny short story: fancy feast


Eddie had always longed for the finer things in life. When his distant Aunt Judy died, she left the boy $215. This was not enough money for Eddie to see how what a better life was like, but it was enough to eat at a somewhat exclusive French restaurant for the first time.

Walking into the restaurant, Eddie was overwhelmed by the luxurious d├ęcor. Golden chandeliers waved high above him, embellished with rubies and other precious gems.

“Oh, how fancy,” Eddie thought.

Sitting down at his table, he reviewed the seemingly endless rows of silver cutlery that extended from both sides of an ivory plate encrusted with gold flowers.

“Oh my, so fancy,” Eddie thought.

He was soon greeted by a hostess who poured water into the crystal glass. The hostess had warm loving eyes, delicate body, blonde hair that constricted Eddie’s pupils and breasts that made Eddie dilate where it mattered. Peering the room, Eddie thought, “All of these waitresses are goddesses!”

His waitress glided from the kitchen to his table, smiling upon her approach. “I bet they are very impressed, seeing someone so young in a place like this,” Eddie thought.

After reviewing the specials, the waitress offers Eddie the menu. Eddie found the menu a difficult study, unable to identify most of the items in the brief moments between staring at the wait staff.

The waitress came back about 10 minutes later to ask Eddie if he was ready to order.

“Have you decided what you would like to eat Sir?” she asked.

Eddie felt a little alienated by the menu, not entirely sure what most menu items were. Thinking no choice could be a bad one at such a fancy joint, Eddie looked up at his beautiful waitress to order the first thing he saw on the menu.

“I’ll have a quickie please.”

The waitress turned red, and gave Eddie a long, judgmental stare. She stormed off, the sound of her high heels clicking across the restaurant, and did not come back for another few minutes.

“Hmm. That was weird. Maybe I didn’t say it fancy enough?” Eddie thought.

Having regained her composure, she glides over to Eddie again and asks the same question.

“Have you decided what you would like to eat Sir?”

Eddie once again gives the exact same answer, except this time exerting a little tongue yoga to a attempt a French accent, “I’ll have a quickie please.”

This time around, the waitress slaps Eddie across the face. A loud “THUD” echoes through the room as her palm connects with the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie looks a little stunned, almost flabbergasted as the waitress storms away angrily.

Sorely embarrassed, Eddie looks around the room to discover a well-dressed man with a curly mustache laughing. The man approached him, resting his soft hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“My dear boy, I think you pronounce that quiche.”
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