Monday was chilly and damp. But, it was supposed to warm up
by the afternoon, so I wore a short sleeve shirt with no coat.
I regretted that on my morning walk.
I took in the rest of the roast pork for Vicky’s family and
a container of bean and bacon soup for my friend, Michelle.
Lenore brought back my empty big container from the shrimp
scampi and Vicky brought back my two containers, but these were full! One had
rice with pigeon peas and the other had those Puerto Rican meat pies (Empanadas
– think mini UP pasties without the veggies). Dinner is served!
I had a very unusual lunch. I went to Ten Yen. The
owner wasn’t there today, just his two daughters. I assumed they are both
working age but, being Chinese, they both look about 12 years old. Just to be
different, I ordered the Almond Chicken. It was a slow day and the other diners
left until I was the only customer in the place. I was seated in a booth where
I couldn’t see the front counter (where to-go orders are picked up and you pay
your bill). I had just finished up when a hell of a commotion broke out up
front. My waitress (the younger of the two girls) was cowering in the dining
area, with her hand over her mouth and wide-eyed from fright.
So, I went up front to see what was going on. There was a
guy up front that I will now try and describe: He was about my height, but
skinny. He had shoulder length, unkempt gray hair. He was wearing dirty jeans
and a black hoodie. He had wraparound sunglasses and finger-less gloves that had
skeleton bones on the backs of them. He smelled bad, mostly of whiskey.
He was jumping all around, making phony Kung Fu moves and
yelling that he was the son of Bruce Lee and was going to kick the other
daughter’s mother-fncking ass if she didn’t get him some egg foo young. Little
as she was, she was standing up to him, telling him, “No, you no eat. You
drunk! Get out or I call police!” She picked up the phone and he grabbed it out
of her hand and slammed it back down, saying, “You ain’t calling anybody,
bitch!” I stepped in between them and calmly said, “What’s the problem here?” He
screamed, “The bitch won’t serve me!”
Sidebar: I was using my training in dealing with potentially
insane, drugged out users and/or drunk people. I did not raise my voice to
confront him. I merely spoke in a firm voice. I said, “I don’t blame her. It’s
time for you to leave.” So, he started in again with the fake karate shit and
told me he was the son of Bruce Lee and could kick my M/F ass, too. I said,
“Well, maybe you can and maybe you can’t but you’re leaving now. Follow me.” I
turned my back on him and walked to the door. Dammed if he didn’t follow me!
When we got outside, he climbed on a ratty-ass bicycle (the
seat cover was a garbage bag) and I said, “Oh, I forgot to leave a tip” and
went back inside. I asked the girls if they were okay. They were both obviously
shaken, but thanked me profusely. I said I’d stay for a little while and make
sure he was gone. So, I did.
I left there and went south on Wayne Road to my bank. Driving
back, I glanced at the restaurant and sure enough, his bike was back!
So, I pulled in and called the cops. I had to describe him
and so on. Meanwhile the Livonia Animal Control truck pulled in and two women
got out and went inside. I thought at first they were cops, because they were
wearing uniforms. Apparently, so did he, because he shot outside, hopped on his
bike and drove away. I went back inside and told the girls I called the
cops. The older one was holding a cell phone in her shaking hand and she
said, “I just did, too.” I asked if there was anything else they needed, and
they said, “No, but thanks for all your help!”
Then I drove back to work.
Sidebar: Why does weird shit like this always happen to me?
Needless to say, the rest of the afternoon was anti-climactic.
It did warm up rather nicely and the sun finally came out. So, my afternoon walk was quite pleasant.
When I got home, I treated the cat and quickly changed
clothes. Then I went out back and continued with the fall cleanup. I pulled the
flowers out of the window box, dumped the dirt in the vegetable garden and put
the box in the shed.
I put the three patio chairs and two tables in the shed as
well. I pulled all the rest of the plants from the vegetable garden and they
all joined the window box flowers in the compost heap.
By then it was 6:45 p.m. and I was getting hungry. So, I
quit for the night. I still have a lot to do, back there, but it was a good
start.
Inside, I washed up and then warmed up my rice and empanadas.
Both were excellent!
I watched a taped show on TV, then went to bed around 9:00
p.m.
That reminds me of the bullet a person put through the back window of a restaurant I worked at back in the 90s. Crazy stuff. Good that you and the ladies were okay.
ReplyDeleteMy little brother, the hero. Thank You John.
ReplyDelete@ Jyl: Yes, I am learning restaurants can be dangerous places!
ReplyDelete@ GPF: No, I wasn't a hero. I was just pissed and didn't think it through.
Did you get your ration of poo when you told this story to ____?
ReplyDeleteHaven't talked to him recently. But, I imagine he'll tell me again that's why I need to have a concealed weapons permit.
ReplyDeleteBTW, why do the call them CCWs, anyway. Shouldn't it be CWP?
And, as an aside, where "exactly" would I conceal a 6" barrel S&W 357 magnum cop pistol?
ReplyDeleteTo comment one, the domain name was probably taken so they chose a new one (concealed carry weapons permit).
ReplyDeleteTo comment two, that's where he'd probably say that's why you need a carry sidearm, as well, or not. Just Clint it.
"There's gotta be a hundred reasons why I don't blow you away. Right now I can't think of one."
"Do you feel lucky, punk?"
ReplyDelete