Rip places the continental fruit basket down on the buffet table and looks toward Mr. Dumars, the maitre d', with an expression that says, "thank you, for the table from Park Place and Hell." Mr. Dumars doesn't notice; he continues to file his nails while waiting on the next big name to walk through the doors--he's kept his best table available, hoping for a tip of the hat, or any sign of recognition from anyone that he is indeed the captain of The Palace. In a sign of defiance to Mr. Dumars' indifference, Rip takes the best orange out of the basket and drops it on the floor, leaving it there like a planet that's fallen from its orbit. Then, Rip heads for the kitchen where he runs into Tayshaun, the busboy.
"Tay, man, you didn't scrub that table down good enough," says Rip. "'Cause of you not doin' your job they're already complainin'."
"You start splittin' tips, and I'll make that table look like some damn rims."
"You wait all day on the prima donnas of the world," smiles Rip, "and then maybe I split tips." Tayshaun bows mockingly and then continues on to clean a row of tables, stopping on his way to pick an orange off the floor and place it back in the fruit basket.
Rip bursts into the kitchen,"Hey, Big Ben, what's happenin' man? I got two orders for the roast duck, an appetizer of shrimp cocktails, and your finest champagne."
Ben looks up from the kitchen counter, moving as stiff as an Easter Island monument, his eyelids drooping, "you know I ain't got nothing to do with the drinks. In fact, while you grab the bottle, grab me one too. I'm hungover as hell."
"Didn't you just spend three years on a bender? Grab the bottle yourself."
Ben growls, sticks his index finger in his ear, twists it, pulls it out, and eyes the wax on it. He then starts preparing the duck, coating it like a candle.
The two patrons sit chewing like cows do cud, as if they're not sure whether the feeding of one's hunger is worth the effort it takes to chew such dryly overcooked meat. Their waiter Rip approaches and asks, "how is everything?"
"To be honest, I feel like I'm eating my grandfather's shoe," responds Mr. Gordon.
"I have to agree with my friend here," adds Mr. Villanueva. "We came in expecting to experience one of the city's finest dining atmospheres, but we've found previous reviews of your establishment to be vastly overrated. Do not expect us to be so kind in our own critiques."
4 comments:
great take on this...but isn't it Maître d' or de?
September 30, 2009 at 11:02 AMgordon is def. in for a surprise.
yeah, i think you're right on the spelling.
September 30, 2009 at 5:28 PMI get what Dumars is doing. It's eery almost how he's trying to pull off the same scheme that worked for their '04 title. The only thing is I don't know if there's a 'Sheed out there to be had, and Villanueva and Gordon don't come with the defense that the Detroit used the first time around.
Still, I like the possibilities for this team, if I could just get over all the stigmas I attach to any team with Kwame Brown on it.
1st darko, now kwame. hopefully the pistons will bring olowakandi out of retirement.
October 1, 2009 at 11:30 AMDid you ever see the Kandi Man video? That used to always cheer me up
October 5, 2009 at 6:00 PMPost a Comment