We went to King’s after Soul Skate a few weeks ago and Henry was all jacked off because the waitress completely forgot his order of wings.
“Maybe it’s because you also ordered a burger and she feels that’s enough,” I offered. But Henry grumbled and added a fifth packet of sugar into his iced tea.
When he told the waitress about the wings, she was super apologetic and vowed to bring him a plate immediately. But Henry, refusing to look at her, mumbled, “THAT’S OK.”
And that is how he treated her for the rest of the meal, as though she was the stripper who ground her yeast infection into his crotch at his 30th birthday party.
Laura and I kept defending her.
“You don’t know what’s going on in her home life!” I cried. “She may have just had a miscarriage!”
This got me a scowl.
It’s not that I was super keen on this waitress, but I do love it when Henry has bad luck at restaurants! You guys have no idea the levels of pouting, disappointment & self-loathing it brings out in him. Poor Henry, indeed.
The waitress finally talked him into taking home a dozen mint Frownies, which still didn’t make him happy. WHAT DO YOU WANT HENRY, A BJ BEHIND THE FRYER?!
Yesterday after skating, Henry finally got his wings.
But this time, they forgot his order or fries. Best day ever!