Sunday, October 31, 2004

Diet Coke Dick

Marnie, the hostess, is an utter and complete bitch. I guess the attitude came free with the name. A skinny, chain-smoking, foul mouthed, Diet Coke swilling, entitled little trollop, she runs the hostess stand with only one purpose in mind - to make the waiters lives a living hell.

Constantly on the phone with her boyfriend, she leaves potential paying customers wallowing in eternal Muzak hell. She claims lover boy is a “producer”

We know he’s a “dealer.”

Marnie never cleans menus, extorts money to seat you a good table, and is constantly running to the bathroom to throw up or snort coke. Worst of all she can’t seat tables for shit.

There is an art to seating tables in a restaurant. A hostess arranges the floor plan so a “rhythm” that is beneficial to both server and kitchen develops. One table should be ordering, another table eating, one getting dessert, while the other pays the bill. This means the waiters can give good service and the chef isn’t trying to pump every entrée out at the same time. Marnie has no sense of rhythm. Actually we wished her parents had been better successful with the rhythm method.

On Saturday night Marnie decides to seat every table in the headwaiter Rizzo’s section at the same time. Slammed, he is soon deep in the shit. Being an experienced waiter he pulls himself out of the weeds.

While all his tables are eating he goes over to the hostess station. He’s pissed. Marnie is sucking on her ever present glass of Diet Coke, studiously flipping through Vogue.

“Hey Marnie did I tell you that you look very nice tonight?” Rizzo asks saccharinely.

Marnie looks like a low rent Courtney Love on a good day.

“Thanks Rizzo.” she says, barely looking up.

“Say wasn’t that you on the cover of Crack Whore Magazine?”

“Fuck you Rizzo.” Marnie says, flipping him the bird.

To make her displeasure known, Marnie seats Rizzo’s section en masse a second time.

Rizzo is livid. When things in his section calm down he comes over to me.

“I am gonna fix that little bitch right.” he says.

“How?” I wonder. I worry. Rizzo can get crazy.

“Follow me.”

Rizzo and I walk over behind the bar. He grabs a pint glass and fills it with Diet Coke.

“Keep your eyes open and cover me.” he says.

With that, Rizzo unzips his fly, whips it out, and starts stirring the Diet Coke with his dick.

“Oh shit.” I spurt.

“Oh yeah. Marnie’s gonna get a little taste of Rizzo tonight!” he hisses while shimmying his hips.

I look around nervously while Rizzo makes love to the Diet Coke. I can’t believe he’s doing this.

“You’re fucking crazy.” I say.

Zipping up his fly Rizzo says, “Oh man if you only knew how much.”

Rizzo slips in a straw, adds a lemon slice, and crosses over the dining room and hands the soda to Marnie.

“Marnie I’m sorry about before. I won’t do it again.” he murmurs sweetly.

Marnie smiles triumphantly and takes the Diet Coke. “Thanks Rizzo.”

“Enjoy.” Rizzo says politely and walks away wearing a shit eating grin.

Rizzo and I hide ourselves behind a large potted tree overlooking the hostess stand and wait for Marnie to start imbibing. The moment her over rouged lips wrap themselves around the straw, a low guttural moan emanates from Rizzo’s throat.

“Yes baby suck it.”

Oh no.

“Yeah taste Rizzo baby. Yeah.” Rizzo says a little louder.

Marnie keeps sucking on her straw.

“Mmmmm, that’s it baby, Oh yes, yes.” louder still.

I start cracking up. Another waiter comes over and wants to know what’s so funny. I tell him. Word of Rizzo’s little escapade flashes to every waiter in the restaurant

“Come on baby work it for Rizzo.” Rizzo moans, bucking his hips a little, thoroughly enjoying his cathartic blowjob.

Marnie stops drinking and flips over another page in her magazine.

“Oh don’t stop baby. Don’t stop.” Rizzo pleads, groaning.

After a few seconds Marnie returns to working the straw. The Diet Coke is diminishing rapidly.

“YES YES YES!!!” Rizzo yelps, his knees shaking.

All work on the floor ceases. Every waiter watches Rizzo and Marnie.

Marnie makes that loud straw sucking noise as she reaches the bottom of her glass.

At that moment Rizzo cries out, “Yeah TAKE IT ALL BABY YEAHHH!” his face contorted in a fake orgasmic rictus. A couple of customers look up, decide not to believe what they’re hearing, and return to their meals.

As if on cue, Marnie wipes the corner of her mouth.

All the waiters in the restaurant burst out laughing at the same time. Marnie looks up startled. I am cracking up so bad my sides hurt. Rizzo is bent over double, keening in hysterics.

Then one of the assistant hostesses, probably gunning for Marnie’s job, runs over and lets her in on the joke. Marnie runs to the bathroom, presumably to puke. Don’t worry. She’s had plenty of practice throwing up.

Wiping the tears from my eyes I say to Rizzo, “So was it good for you?”

Rizzo picks himself up off the floor and exhales, “Shit man. Somebody gimme a cigarette.”

Marnie quit that night. We never had a problem with a hostess again

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