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Mistaken Identity and two rolls of Toilet Paper


Jason Rimbaud

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Mistaken Identity and Two Rolls of Toilet Paper

Current Music Selection: Snow Patrol?Eyes Open

Current State: Buzzed

Current Mood: Fulfilled

So I stabbed my co-worker in the back with a fork tonight at work. I don?t think you can appreciate this statement. So I?ll Chris Nolan it, Memento style. We?ll go back in time so you can get the full impact of this statement.

As some of you know, I work in a hip up-scale restaurant in Palo Alto California. Most of my co-workers are between the ages of nineteen and twenty-one. Almost all of us are males, and for the most part, we get along rather well.

No matter how professional we are in the front of the house, the main room of the restaurant for those un-familiar, the back of the house, the kitchen area, is one rowdy and fun loving place. Here is where we make fun of the guests, catch up on the gossip of our co-workers, and mainly play practical jokes on everyone. Usually the games we play are divided between the servers and the kitchen staff.

Mostly our games are harmless, high school games. Like the circle game. For those of you that haven?t heard of this game, I?ll explain. You bring your forefinger and thumb together to make an ?O?, and making sure the ?O? is below your waist, you try and trick the rest of the co-workers to look at the ?O?. If they look, you get to hit them in the arm. But there is a way out, if the person who is shown the ?O?, can without looking, takes his forefinger and breaks the ?O?, and then he gets to hit the person who flashed the ?O?. Usually we all go home with black and blue arms.

Lately our games have been escalating to hit and run attacks of the left nipple. And yes, only the left nipple is targeted. This gives everyone a fighting chance, as we all have pockets over our left nipples and we can stick things inside to protect the rather sensitive nipple area. So of course we have to be rather creative to get a direct hit, but then we all are pretty creative.

But none of these games were the cause of the above statement. I?m getting there, just like Memento; good things come to those who wait. Now, we have individual candles at each table to give off good ambience. At the beginning of the shift, we all have to light the hundred or so candles that litter our restaurant. One of my co-workers, after lighting thirty or so candles, walks over to me and complains that his lighter is really hot. I call him a pussy and to prove how hot the lighter is, he places the metal part, where the flame comes out, against my left forearm. I must admit, he was right. The lighter was very hot and it burned me.

For some of you here on this site, you might not know that straight guys love hurting one another. And since I?m pretty straight acting, I think it?s kind of fun to inflict good natured harm to guys I like. Like I tell them all the time, we?re two steps away from one big gay orgy. That would inflict lots of harm mixed with pleasure but I?m getting off topic again. I stabbed my co-worker with a fork.

So I scream out, stating the obvious that he burned me. Now, his best friend walks over to see why I screamed out like a girl. After relaying the story, and showing him the spot on my arm that is now a deep red and beginning to blister, that fucker uses his lighter and burns me again, a few inches above the first burn. So in pain, and with a vengeful nature, I flick both of their nipples, hard. So hard that I actually hurt my fingers. They scream out, complaining that the right nipple is off limits and that I cheated.

So we stood there, the two of them rubbing their sore nipples and me blowing on my burnt skin. So loudly were we screaming, our General Manager came out of his office to see what the commotion was about. After telling him that I cheated by targeting the right nipple, a game he plays as well (we have a great boss) he looks at me and shakes his head, but then I showed him my arm. In his great wisdom, he allows the flick to go un-punished as they did burn me. I stick my tongue out at them, gloating. I know, real mature. But serving in a restaurant is a really stressful job and we need all the distractions to help us get through the night.

Now remember, we haven?t even opened for business yet and already I have two co-workers declaring they will get me back for my unlawful nipple attack. I walk away, confident that I?ll survive whatever the two come up with.

Remember, I?m a man of routine. We open at 5:30, at 5:15 everyday I go outside to get one last cigarette down before the hell begins. After I finish smoking, I go to the bathroom, relieve myself and wash the cigarette smell from my hands.

They see me go outside, ten minutes later, they watch me walk into the bathroom. I enter one of the stalls and proceed with my business. I hear the door open and someone walk into one of the stalls. I think nothing of this; it?s a public bathroom after all. About a minute later, I hear the door open again. I hear them speaking, it?s the two that have sworn to get me back. They walk into the two remaining stalls. I hear a banging noise, and a few seconds later, one calls out to the other, asking if he?s ready. The other replies yes, and then I hear two loud bangs and then a splash, then a muffled yell, followed immediately by a very deep voice saying this, and I quote, ?I?m not who you think I am.? They had decided to grab two rolls of toilet paper and chuck them over the stall walls. What they didn?t know, they had chosen the wrong stall. It seems our delivery driver had needed to take a shit after giving us our beer. One of the toilet paper rolls hit him in the head while the other fell right between his legs and into the bowl.

Needless to say, both of them bolted out of the bathroom like two scared rabbits while I started laughing. What made it even more comical, was after they left, the driver continued to curse and yell about the incident. I calmly washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom to find both of them, hiding in the office with scared looks on their faces.

I shake my head, and then tell every person working what had just happened. To say they were mad about the nipple flick was an understatement now. They both swore they would get me before the night was over. And for the rest of the night, periodically one of us would look at the two of them and say, "I'm not who you think I am."

Shortly after that, we opened the door and had one of the busiest nights in our history. And through the night, though we help each other out, every free moment is spent flicking nipples, pushing, punching, and generally having one hell of a time trying to out do one another.

Now, wait for it, here comes the reason I?m writing this entry. At the very end of the shift, the one that burned me first, comes at me with a pen in his hand and acts like he?s going to stab me in the nipple with it. My reflex is to stop this from happening so I stick out my right hand. At that moment, the second one that burned me chose this moment to push the other guy hard from behind, sending him crashing into me. Needless to say, I get stabbed in the hand with a pen, deep enough to draw blood. I react without thinking, I pick up the first thing I could, which happened to be a dirty fork from one of the plates. I looked at the one who stabbed me, he protests, saying he was pushed and that he really wasn?t going to stab me. I shake my head and he starts to run. I chase him out of the kitchen and down the hall to the back door, where I catch him and in a moment of stupidity, I stab him in the back with a fork. He screams out, I push him outside, and slammed the door. Everyone, including the General Manager is standing there laughing as he bangs on the door. Yelling that I tried to kill him with a dirty fork and that he?ll probably get some crazy disease.

After work, I buy a six-pack of beer and in the parking lot, we all drink beer together and laugh over the days events. Speculating on what the next day we?ll bring and what kind of adventures we?ll have together in this hip upscale restaurant in Palo Alto.

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Juses Crhist. I take it back. You DON'T have AS in any way, shape, or form. ANY of the early mentioned things like nipple attacks would be enough to boil me over, and the attack with the lighter would have, right there, instantly, been rebutted with something so severe I'd have been in jail before it got as far as the fork incident. I can't believe (well, I can, but I can't comprehend) that you could have a beer with them and be fine with it. I couldn't work there, and I'd be raising shit: assault charges, labor relations charges for the boss not intervening, etc. In fact, I'm so fucking agitated I can barely type this, and it didn't even happen to me.

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Well, think about it like this Trab. It's good I don't have AS, you would not want to be lumped intoa catogory with the likes of me. I would give a bad name to AS suffers everywhere. :icon_geek:Jason R.

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