Serving those who serve us
By Anonymous

“I’m waiting on a couple who vibe like they are swingers. He’s creepy, probably 60-plus, fit, and tanned the color of tobacco spit. His companion is probably 10 years his junior with big fake boobs and with similar leathery skin. They’ve been coming in for years, and everyone at the restaurant remembers when the lady came in with a black eye and wouldn’t make eye contact with any of us. Anyway, this particular night the guy says to me, ‘You wanna see something?’ My blood runs cold, as I’m sure he’s going to show me a naked picture of his wife, but instead he pulls out a picture, hands it to me and says, ‘Look at this.’ It’s a picture of an old, tired-looking lion that’s been recently shot. He’s kneeling next to it, and he’s splattered in blood. On the back is another picture, this time with a dead ox and him covered in gore. He and his companion are looking at me for a response, so I ask them, ‘What did you do with it after you killed it?’ ‘We ate the ox,’ he replies. ‘The lion I’m making into a rug.’”

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