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A series of sharp reports echoed through the air as I hammered my great cock against the table. "Let's see 'em try to ignore that!" I shot my companions a sly wink. I was on a roll.
Sure enough, a waiter appeared lickety-split. "Can I get you something, sir?" he inquired.
"Sure ya can," I said. Without missing a beat I began to gyrate my hips and make violent thrusting motions. "A woman who doesn't pant like a dog when I'm nailing her from behind." For good measure, I threw in a bunch of orgasmic squeals and moans in falsetto, sending the table into an uproar. Was I on fire or what?
To my disgust, though, the little foreigner's expression didn't change. Too stupid to get the joke, obviously. I was feeling good though, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm just kidding with you. Don't worry about it. Get me a taco salad. And make sure there's plenty of them spicy fuckers, whattayacallem, hallapinies. Comprende, Sancho?"
This last bit was by way of humorously alluding to his Mexican heritage. I punctuated the order by putting a foot against the stupid little wetback's hip and giving him a monstrous shove towards the kitchen. He went over backwards, hard, flailing his arms and taking down a tray of dirty dishes with him. The whole section was howling by now. I waited for it to subside, then leaned in confidentially towards my audience. "These guys can't take a shit if you don't show 'em how. Check this out..."
"Hey Enrico!" I shouted at the sprawled figure. "Do yourself a favor, willya? NEXT TIME LEARN ENGLISH!"
Date Written: July 29, 2003
Author: Jon Matza
Average Vote: 4.5
