Ink In The Stink

It was about eleven when the crew was finally seated in the busy restaurant. They watched the tall, skinny blonde waitress scramble by them several times and by the time she broke pace to take their order, they were a bit frustrated. They could see she was working her tiny little ass off, so they remained patient.

As she took the final order and closed her book in a hurry, her pen caught-- launching it upward. The pen did about four full rotations and lodged perfectly into the exposed butt crack of the largest man of the group. He was unknowingly displaying the giant split to everyone behind him in the restaurant.

It may sound like it was a one-in-a-million shot, but the size of his structure improved those odds substantially--- after all, the man was shaped similarly to a gorilla.

The guys had gone back to their conversations and the waitress hovered awkwardly behind the man for an extended amount of time, drawing the attention of the hungry Foreman. Wondering why she didn't go back to her frantic pace and put in their order, he asked her what the problem was.

"... Uh, I dropped my pen..."

By this point the shy & awkward 19 year old had the entire crew looking at her. The gorilla-shaped man slid his chair back, assuming it was at his feet. The giant ape clearly had no idea where it actually was.

By this point, all the hungry guys were looking for the blue pen under the table on the gaudy, dark carpet.

"It's not under here, can you see it?"

"Uh, Yeah."

The waitress, standing behind the giant man pointed downward to signal the boss the location.

Assuming it is on the back of his seat, the big guy moved side to side. His massive shoulders hindered his reach to back of the chair, an effort sending the pen further down into its salty grave.

The Foreman was puzzled, "Well where the Hell is it?"

"... The pen is in his butt crack, Sir."

The silence that followed her answer lasted for a moment until the crew fell about the place laughing hysterically:

"AND YOU WANT IT BACK??????!!!!!!!!"

"Well, It's the only one I have."

The Foreman reached in his shirt pocket and handed her his pen, shaking his head.

She was long gone by the time the man fished her blue lidless ballpoint from his backside.

A few years later, the waitress went on to work for that same Utility company and continues to write to this day.

(She also leaves extra pens at restaurants.)



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