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Snippet of a Conversation
2002-11-08 - 10:57 p.m.


before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

Snippet of a conversation.

 

I was at Ponderosa, the steak house.  I called for take out, unsure if they even did that at this place.

 

They are all about buffets.

 

I awkwardly went through the transaction on the phone.

 

�Do you do take out?�  I asked.

 

�I don�t know.�  She repied.

 

Okay.

 

�So, if I show up and give you money, you�ll give me food, and I can walk right back out again?�  I ask.

 

�Yes.�  She says.

 

Okay.  No worries.

 

So I make my order, fuck around with the guitar, and go get my food.

 

�I was told I get a trip to the buffet, and you would tell me what to do.�  I say.

 

I�ve been feeling very un-funny lately, which is to say, I�m trying, but no one really seems to groove on it.   For some reason, I keep trying.

 

She went into an explanation of protocol. 

 

�I just threw that in there, that you�d tell me what to do.�  I said.

 

I was about to go off on a tangent about free will or something, on the order of �well, I suppose that�s a lot to ask, you know, for you to run my life and everything.  Buffet will be fine.�  Or conversely �I�m not asking you to be the boss of me, or anything.  But if you wanted���something like that.

 

She beat me to it.

 

�You can have whatever you can fit in here,� she said, handing me a Styrofoam container.

                                                                               

I thrust it back at her.

 

�Here, try this on.�  I replied.


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