…Continued from July 27…
“Is that true what they say about ersters?” she had asked, her 48DDs pointing somewhere between my neck and chin. My wife had leaned forward, her hands cupping her face, which was stuck in Expression #16B–No Matter What You Say, You’re Screwed. Time for a little technique…
(Side Note: As far as guys are concerned, a big breast story is like a good fish story; they both get bigger with the telling. Just so you know.)
“I’ve heard people say that,” I began, “but the scientific community has proven it’s just a myth. Oysters, however, are a very healthy food. If you eat just four medium-size oysters every day, you’ll get the recommended daily allowances of calcium, copper, iodine, iron, mag—“
“She didn’t ask you all that,” Madame M interjected, trying not to frown. “She did not ask you all of that.”
Good! I had succeeded in deflecting ol’ #16B, as well as ignoring them 48DDs—quite a feat, if I say so myself. Rookies, you should read my chapter entitled Statistics: Making Females Shoo on Cue. Lotta good stuff in there, fellow brethren, lotta good stuff.
Keeping my face straight, I answered, “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bore you.” Brightening a bit, I put a finger in the air and said, “But did you know oysters can be roasted, steamed, fried, scalloped, stewed—“
“Nobody cares, Bubba Gump,” my wife said firmly. “Look, miss,” she said to Super Soul Sister, with a quick Expression #9C—I’m On To You, Mister towards me, “My husband (did I hear a slight inflection on the word “husband”? Hmmm…) can be a little dull at times. But if you ask the waiter for a saucer, I’m sure he will spare one of his oysters so you can try it. Won’t you dear?”
“Of course,” I answered. “I hope you don’t mind a little green hot sauce on it.”
“Oh, uh, I don’t want to take yours,” S.S.S. replied dubiously, staring down at my tray.
“He doesn’t mind,” my daughter spoke up, a bit quickly, eager to stick her two cents in. “Besides, he’s only on his second dozen, and they’re on special tonight, so go for it!” She giggled; my wife smiled along with her.
Co-operation, eh? I’d fix both of them later.
“As a matter of fact, here’s an empty saucer right here,” Madame M said, leaning over my tray, “Let’s give her…uh…this one.” She grabbed the biggest one and put it on the saucer. “There,” she cooed. “Well, hand it to her, dear,” she said, after I had hesitated momentarily. My wife don’t coo for nothing, Jack.
Uh-huh. I was on to her, too. Both of them, to be exact. I glanced at my daughter; she was trying to keep her face straight, but it was a no-go. She grabbed her napkin and busied herself wiping imaginary crumbs from her face. Madame, being more experienced, was hiding behind Expression #20, Smug. I handed the saucer to S.S.S., making sure to hold it high enough so she didn’t have to bend for it. You see, that was the killshot my wife was looking for, me making The Big Valley bend low, so I could get a glimpse at ‘em. I may be crazy, but I aint stupid.
Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind, though. Would have served everybody right, especially if one of them puppies would have popped out and said hello. Served ‘em all right…
I turned, and out of the corner of my eye I could see White Guy walking briskly back to the table. Just five more seconds, and…