Bane Macleod

An Open Letter To...

Dear Denny's Customers Who Were Seated Directly Next To Us Last Night,

It was with a fine sense of wonderment that I watch your dissimilar group seated directly in the booth next to us, although there were at least 40 other tables open. As well with a fine sense of humor that I watched the horrible face my girlfriend was making as you lot made your way into the booth, and a sickening feeling of nausea as I realized the reason that she was making the faces as the smell of your unwashed bodies made their way over to my area. I was a little disappointed when Xian made her way next to me in the opposing seat of the booth, not because I didn't want her close to me, but because she was forced to move because the smell was sitting in the booth across from us like unwanted dinner guests.

I was a little upset that she didn't want to move because it would seem like an insult to your obvious sensibilities, but I must admit your conversation soon perked my interest. Your group was an odd one. One overweight white girl insisting on being the life of the party and leader of the pack, one older white guy who just looked happy to be sitting in front of food, one young Mexican man who looked amazingly like the pop singer Eamon, if Eamon didn't shower or shave or pay any attention to his appearance at all, a young black lady and an older black man that I later discovered was her father. It wasn't until Eamon started in on how happy he was to be out that I realized why you guys were odd. You just got out of prison, the bunch of you. My joy was compounded immediately.

Bertha seemed to be fairly excited at sitting with such a diverse group, as she began recalling her jail time as a pregnant woman and abuse and sexual harassment at the hands of the guards, oblivious to the fact that she looked like a dirty walrus that had been struck by a minibus full of manure. Apparently the guards at the prison had disliked Bertha because of her mother's position as the senator of Las Vegas, and how her mom had objected to police pay being made higher (fuck the police). The fantastically entertaining thing about Bertha's presentation was not the obvious farcity of it, but the fact that after every sentence the Mexican spit out, her ghetto accent would become stronger. As though surrounded by this group of minority figures she would somehow lose her "ghetto pass" if she wasn't more raw than the next cat.

The older white gentleman seemed torn between Bertha's bouts of affection and flirting and tearing into his food as though it was all a cruel joke that may be ended soon. I felt bad for the OWG, but without dancing or something there was no way he could be as entertaining as the rest of you.

The other object of Bertha's affection, the older black gentleman, never said a word. I didn't understand why at first, maybe he was a mute or something. He just sat there with an unpleasant look on his face. It wasn't until his daughter started talking that I discovered why. If he said a word he would obviously lose control of what little composure he had left and kill everyone at the table. At least, that's what I would do were I him.

The first words I heard from his daughter that I could clearly understand were "I mean, I told that motherfucking cop, (fuck the police) I said, that nigga's got his money, I got mine, but then the cop showed me this nigga's wallet and he has $300 bucks in this mothafucka. I'm going what?!? This nigga's holdin out on me?"... The N-Bomb was dropped at least 30 times before she even got to the reason why she was arrested by the man (fuck the police), and I only guess at why because she never spelled it out closer than "I mean, damn, I'm not a prostitute or anything, I just needed the money. Ya know?"

Eamon also struck my interest, not only because of his ability to pass as a pop star should he ever decide to shower, but because of his "reason". Seems a 28 year old guy decided to have sex with his 14 year old sister. So, Eamon beat his ass. I can respect you for that Eamon, shit, I was on your side there for a minute. But wtf are you talking about when you say "I mean, I don't jump up in my sisters business or anything, but he like raped her, then left her with the baby." umm.. So like, if it was consensual sex between a 28 year old and your 14 year old sister you would be ok with that? Or like, if he raped her but stuck around for the pregnancy it would have been cool? I was pretty reassured that the judge told you "Fuck what the police said, (fuck the police) I would have bitchslapped that fool too". I can almost picture the judge sitting up there behind his desk telling you that in front of a courtroom full of police and retarded gangbangers and druggies.

Anyway, on to the point of my letter. I want to thank you Denny's customers who were seated directly next to us last night despite the abundance of open tables in the restaurant. You have stamped a big blazing ball of fire in my mind that I have made the right choices in my life being a reclusive hermit rather than going to hang out with most of my friends from childhood (who I might add are also in jail, or will be soon for back child support). And older black gentleman, you have taught me a valuable lesson too. Should I have a daughter, I will make sure that she is taught the right lessons, and shown all the love I can give her. If she still screws up, that's fine, I'll just wait it out, keep a grim smile on my face until we get home... Then I'll kill her.

After all, I really don't want to have to spend time in Jail with you guys.