Outrageous Thoughts of Babble
by Peter Knight
Go Figure
There was a lull period between Christmas and New Years that Elizabeth and I did not really know what to do. Basically, we hung out with assorted people and other times, anxiously tried different places to eat. This one night, we ran shy of both categories, yet we still had to have dinner, and it was getting late. We drove under the elevated B-subway line in Bensonhurst and found an open restaurant called Richelieu’s. Moments after entering and being seated, one of the staff locked the doors; noting that the restaurant was closing for evening and would not be accepting any other customers. We also noticed that there was a party being held in the back room and once in a while, someone would sneak out from there. We tried taking guesses about the ethnic background of the restaurant, but anyhow, Elizabeth ordered a hamburger and I ordered the BLT.
"This is good."
"This is good too," I mumbled between bites, "real good." Somehow, they managed to cook the bacon just right. Very rarely do I ever get bacon the way I like it cooked—nice and chewy, not raw, just slightly crisp. And, the portions here were huge too.
"Want some?" she offered a bite of her sandwich to me. On the menu, it notes that they ground their own beef , and it tasted very… fresh. It was also very good. Very impressed, we both chewed on.
A few minutes later, a woman walked out from the party that was going on the in back. She approached the front of the restaurant, grabbed her coat, and started for the exit. And she was pretty. Not excellent pretty, but pretty pretty. Probably moreso sophisticated pretty. Myself. I would not catergorize myself as a stalker, nor one with hypnotic trance, dramatically invading all lines of privacy while blinking only when my pupils get too dry. No. I just like to admire once in a while. I look. Innocently, I look. That’s all.
"Put those eyes back in your head," Elizabeth snaps at me.
"Wha Wha What? What are you talking about?" I was surprised that she noticed. I thought I was being nonchalant with carefully timed glances, but she noticed.
"Jeez, can’t we be a little more obvious. You can wipe that drool off too."
"That’s…mayonnaise. Not drool. Mayonnaise."
"Sure. Have my back turned for one second, and already, my boyfriend’s looking at another woman."
"Oh jeez. Eat your burger." She caught me. Okay. She gets a point. That’s all she wanted, was the point. She’s ahead of me one zero now.
Moments later, we were done with our meals and light conversation. We ordered up the check and the host, six-foot-two, long-haired-slick-tied-in-pony-tail, wearing a double vested suit, approached us at the register. Did I say he looks like someone all the women would agree as tall, dark and handsome? I shifted my eyes over to Elizabeth. Nothing. I paid for the dinner and the host walked us to the door. I glanced back over again—still nothing. She was not even looking in his direction.
After taking a couple of steps, we hear the door shut and lock.
"Oh my God! Oh my God!" She broke out into a laughter, "Did you see him? Oh my God! He was soooo handsome."
"Did I see him? He touched my money. My hand was still on it, while he touched the money." I decided to play along a little.
"He was soooo handsome," her laughter grew.
"Okay. That’s enough."
"He was better, much better, than Antonio Banderas."
"Yes. Yes. Ha ha. Okay."
"Wow. Please fan me. Fan me. I need some air." Her laughter grew and grew.
[Hysterical woman laughing in the background as Peter steps into the foreground for monologue]
Okay. I learned my lesson. But, it just goes to show you. Women have better mental capacities. A woman can actually glance at something, store it to memory, and retrieve it later for enjoyment. Whereas men have only instantaneous capabilities in these situations—we stare, gawk, whatever, but when its over, its over.
[Peter steps back into the scene with hysterical laughing woman]
