Dufrain, Party of Two
Last night I went to the Uptown Cafe with my grandma. I had never been there before. My immediate family was more salt-of-the-Earth, Dave's-Hot-n-Juicy kind of people. I felt particularly underdressed even in my best pair of $10 Levis.
We sat in a booth and I ordered a Dufrain -- a Guiness with a shot of espresso. After one sip I felt sexy and confident enough to mate with any woman who would make eye contact with me. I could tell that the hostesses knew what's up. One of them smiled at me and I smiled back pulling out my retainer. I could see her heart melt.
Then I noticed our waiter was someone who went to my high school. When my grandma and I go out to eat I feel awful about how little she tips. Normally I throw a couple of more dollars on top of whatever she pays because she has some sort of vendetta against wait staff.
But not tonight, because fuck that kid.
I ordered the cajun meatloaf, a 30-year Uptown classic. Shit was dank, but not worth $14. I could make a loaf four times that size, with drugs in it, for less than that price -- I'm a man of my loaf.
By the time I finished consuming a fifth of a pound of red meat and some fried shrimp I felt less sexy and incapable of mating with attractive women. So I put in my retainer, drank another Dufrain and winked at the hostess.
I could tell she was visibly overwhelmed with lust by her reaction and the way she said, "Have a good night, sir."
