Unfiltered Story #185181

, | Unfiltered | February 7, 2020

So my wife decides she wants to try a particular shop which sells sandwiches in two sizes, defined by their lengths in Imperial measure, The only outlet we can find is in an area of town notorious for certain illicit activity, but as it’s early evening we figure we can get in and out without too much trouble.

We walk in, it’s pretty quiet, there are a couple of people at the counter being attended to by a clerk who’s having a really quiet conversation with them, studying something on the counter (could have been a menu, could have been something else, who knows). While we wait patiently for service, and my wife studies the menu, a woman walks in and loudly strides up to the bar with “Evenin’ darlin’s, let’s have my usual order!” or something like that.

“Excuse *me*,” I say ironically to my wife.

The woman hears this and isn’t too happy about it. She comes over to me, gets right in my face, breathing stale cigarette fumes (better than halitosis, I suppose), giving me a continual harangue along the lines of: “How dare you speak about me like that?” to which I am at a loss to respond, except for when she comes out with “My boyfriend’s outside, and one word from me and he will f**k you up,” to which I reply, “Yeah, I hear pimps can be a bit brash and reckless.” Unfortunately, this does not help defuse the situation, for some reason.

Somewhere during these proceedings another server comes from out back, and approaches the counter. But by now my poor timid wife is somewhat rattled by this turn of events (the woman in the shop is bringing back unpleasant memories of the physical violence she used to suffer as a child) and has quietly asked if we can leave,

“Yeah, let’s go,” I agree, and out we go.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish!” calls the woman after us as we leave, and to the server, “Whatever they were going to have, I’m having triple!”

The punchline? As we hadn’t got round to ordering yet, the server did not know what to make triple of.