Tuesday, May 3, 2011

8. My Milkshake

After one unsuccessful attempt at receiving inspiration through osmosis, the Babushka realized that in order to have a revelation concerning her destiny, she would have to be in a positive environment filled with pleasant people. Unfortunately, no such people existed in the human wasteland of Watershed Heights.
The Babushka's tummy grumbled. "Perhaps my tummy's gotta get inspired first," she thought.
For once, the Babushka was not in the mood for Jamaican. And besides, DeAngelo would be expecting her to want a refill on her weed stash. (The Babushka hadn't been smoking much recently, and didn't want to disappoint her dear friend.)
Since Svetlana was already out and about she decided to head east to Deena's 28 Hour Diner. She'd heard the place was good, although the concept of 28 hours in a day perplexed her. Sounded like some Sci-fi shit.
She walked into the swinging doors of the diner with a "GLING!"
A kind, pretty hostess smiled a lipstick coated smile, and with a gesture, told Svetlana that she was permitted to sit anywhere she liked.
The Babushka huffed, since she was not so familiar with any of socially acceptable ways in which Americans demonstrated gratitude, and scurried off to a lonely little table in the corner. She plopped her handbag on the ground and scooched in close to the table until her top fatroll was avalanched over her place-mat. A waitress approached.
"Good evenin' ma'am! Waylcome to Dina's Diner. Mah name's Destiny and I weeyull be your waitress tonight!" Destiny's white teeth twinkled in the reflection of the light up retro "Dina's Diner" sign hanging on the wall.
The Babushka scanned her menu with a frown. "I will have uh, da BIGuh pancake, and uh, the uh shocolate milkshakeuh. Largeuh." The Babushka was no pansy when it came to eating. Russian men liked their woman fat.
Destiny returned in a jiffy with a steaming giant pancake in the shape of Mickey Mouse and a tall glass of milkshake. "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard..." the Babuskha sang unintentionally under her breath.
She dug into the pancakes, only relieving herself to take greedy slurps of milkshake in between. She picked up the metal can of maple syrup, allowing it to stream and flood over the hot cakes, shimmering like snake venom and casting the reflection of the spinning ceiling fan above the Babushka's head. Svetlana pealed off the strawberries from the top of the massive pancake, popping them delicately into her mouth, and licking the gleaming remnants of melted chocolate chips off of her saggy old fingers. Delicioso.
In the middle of the Babushka's licking fest, a creepy old man was escorted past her table. Svetlana watched him intently. He smelled homeless, but looked clean enough. He was deceiving. The Babushka furrowed her brows with distrust. Suddenly, she did not feel like completing her delicious pancake meal. She was too disgusted with American hygiene to eat anymore.
"Billuh Pleasuh." Svetlana snapped her fingers in Destiny's face as she clicked past the table on her shiny pink high heels. Destiny's smile twisted into a confused pout as she squeaked "Yayus ma'am!" And hurried to the back of the restaurant, clicking all the way.
After receiving the bill, Svetlana cast one last disapproving glance back at the stinky old fart. He stared back, unafraid.
Svetlana waddled out the of the restaurant, sighing mournfully. "How can I have a destiny when I surrounded by nothing by stinking, filthy Americans?"

No comments:

Post a Comment