I can just imagine the conversation around the dinner table tonight. The driver returns home. He sits at the table where his wife is waiting with dinner she had spent over an hour preparing- rice, flatbread, soup, and lamb. He tastes the soup. “This soup is cold.” He tastes the bread. “This bread isn't flat enough.” His wife rolls her eyes and contemplates stuffing a fist into his mouth. Instead, she tries to divert with a conversation: “So how was your day today, honey?” He doesn't answer at first because he is too busy scarfing down the food with gusto, despite the coldness and the bread that isn't flat enough. As she watches him eat like a beast, his wife remembers that one time he tore into a chicken leg so impatiently that one of his teeth came out of his mouth with the leg. She tries to will it into happening again. Finally, after a huge, manly, reverberating burp and fart, a piece of chicken still hanging off his moustache, but teeth still intact, he remembers that his wife had said something. He answers inadvertently, “You won't believe what I did today.”
“What's that honey?”
“I drove a bunch of crazy Americans to a monastery.”
Great. How many of those sluts' breasts did he fondle? She wondered to herself.
“Honey, did you hear what I said? A monastery!”
“We have a monastery?”
....
Curtain.
2 comments:
Great story! What a guy that cab driver, I feel like I know him.
sounds about right
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