Busy Busy
yo,
i was just wondering what your dill was… i mean… your webpage. it has not been updated in like… weeks!!! whats up with that? anywho.. i think you should change that. and quick. and make it something special… pour moi!!! :) your favorite little sister. k? thanks!
Okay, okay, it has been weeks. But I wanted to let that “Coming In 2006” sink in a little bit, cuz it’s not gonna be right away.
So keep that in mind, because it’s sure keeping me busy when it seems like I’m being lazy. For now, I dug up this little fragment that I always liked, but haven’t fit into anything yet. Something special? …maybe tomorrow.
“Where’s that Manhattan!?” The yell came from behind me, and would have startled anyone not used to the bustle of a busy restaurant to catastrophically drop whatever they were doing. Fortunately I was used to it, and the bottle of Crown Royal whisky remained in my hand, pouring down into a silver shaker.
The waitress glared at me, her brow deepening into a scowl. Whoever had ordered the Manhattan from her was clearly becoming upset, and it was time to finally make the drink.
Click! The top of the bottle caught the shaker as I pulled the bottle upright.
Slam! I gingerly placed the bottle back on its shelf.
Shlipt! I popped a pint glass on top of the shaker.
Shicka-shicka! I gave the drink a good shake.
Thud! I tapped the shaker on the bar to break the seal.
Splash! I dumped the ice out of the martini glass.
Snap! I snapped on the strainer.
Trickle! The whisky poured in.
Plop! I dropped in a cherry.
I smiled up at the waitress and she rolled her eyes back. She walked away with the drink, mumbled, “thank you,” but I didn’t believe it. I wondered if she realized why her drinks were consistently late. Her tip-outs were so bad, I always moved her tickets to the bottom of the pile.
I moved on to the next ticket: six draught beers. In less than a second I grabbed a pint glass, pulled down the tap lever, and amber ale was flowing along the side, foaming at the bottom of the shimmering glass. The glass caught the light of a bit of flame. Luis was spraying sake onto the grill next to me, working on a yaki ika appetizer.
Yaki ika sounds incredibly more palatable than it’s English name: grilled squid. English has such unappetizing words it seems food is always ordered in another language: calamari instead of squid, linguini instead of flat noodles, venison instead of deer, caviar instead of fish eggs, escargot instead of snails. Other words have second English words to describe them as food: beef, pork, poultry and veal are prime examples. And if you do order in English, it’s usually because of some kind of humourous alliteration like hot dog or fish and chips. Or perhaps some absurd metaphor as in chicken fingers or Buffalo wings.