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April 6, 2007

David: Then The Other Guy Ordered A Footlong

He studied the menu. “I guess I’ll have the sausage, make it polished.”

“Dude, what?” asked his companion.

“What? That’s what it says in the menu. ‘Sausage, polish.’ Never had it, thought I’d try it.”

“Dude, that’s ‘Polish sausage.” Like, from Poland? Snerk.”

“Don’t laugh at me, man.”

“Hehe, you want your sausage polished.”

“Shut up, man!”

“You sausage polisher. Waitress, make sure it’s a big sausage. I hear he likes to polish big sausages.”

“Your mom polishes big sausages.”

“Dude, that’s not cool.”

The waitress stood silently, pen in hand, trying to shatter the salt shaker with her mind.

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