R.I.P., Emily Post
My friend Phil and I are in a chicken joint in Guntersville the other day, right? We're getting the stuff to go, so the waitress gives us our drinks and we sit down and have a seat on this large bench in front of the register. I'm drinking a Dr. Pepper out of one of those big, white, styrofoam cups - with no top on it. I planned on grabbing one and a straw on the way out and I mention this detail only because it's intregal to the rest of the story.
So we're sitting there on this bench, which is right there to your left as you walk into the place and I've got my Dr. Pepper, holding it in my hand, when in comes this young family of three - dad, mom and an adorable little blonde-headed girl of about four years of age, I suppose. They're smartly dressed and attractive, your basic All-American nuclear family, the kind you see in the picture that comes with a new frame at Wal-Mart. They stroll up to the counter and place their order and then the waitress comes around from behind the counter to lead them to their table.
Well, I look up at this scene and I'm thinking to myself, "gee, don't they look like a happy little family, I sort of envy them", right?
I'm idly reflecting on this thought as they pass us by when the little girl, all dressed up for dinner out with the family in her little dress and bows in her hair and whatnot - this precious, smiling little angel - turns her head towards me and before I can even think "awww, how cute...", she cuts loose this big, fat, spraying sneeze - right into my Dr. Pepper and all over my hand and trots on by without missing a beat.
So I'd just like to say - Mr. and Mrs. Perfect of Guntersville, Alabama - if you happened to notice a brown-headed guy in a ball-cap and black suede jacket sitting on the bench and drinking a Dr. Pepper as you as you were ordering your chicken Friday night at The Chicken Shack - you owe me 99 cents for my damn soft-drink and please teach your little snot-slinging germ-factory some basic social skills, okay? Otherwise, just leave her home at the barn next time you go out.