This is a Bitchy Waiter tradition. I wrote this last year and I hope you enjoy this magical tale about a waiter closing down his restaurant and dealing with one last customer. If you’d like to hear it read to you, please click here. If you’d like to download the podcast version of it on iTunes, you can click here. Merry Christmas.
The Bitchy Waiter
‘Twas the night before Christmas, in the front of the house
The only creature still stirring was that sad dying mouse;
The glue trap was placed by the reach-in with care,
In hopes that the rodents would soon be aware;
This server was ready to be home in his bed.
While visions of auto-grat danced in his head.
My apron now off, cleaning my last ketchup cap,
When I hear from the window a soft gentle rap.
I try to ignore all the obnoxious clatter,
But I walk towards the noise to see what’s the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Crack it open so slightly, do nothing rash.
The moon on the breasts of this tired looking ho
Gave me the feeling she wanted some mo’.
When, what to my wondering eye should appear,
This bitch had a coupon for one freebie beer.
With her Lee Press-on Nails and her mascara too thick,
I knew in a moment she must be some trick.
A hooker, a ho, or whatever the name,
“It’s Christmas Eve, bitch. We’re closed, it’s a shame.”
“Please, just a Bud, a Corona or Bass!
I have this free coupon I pulled from my ass!
In six more short days, the coupon’s not valid,
And if not a beer, maybe one small side salad?”
I looked at the lady, saw the need in her eyes,
And wondered how badly she wanted some fries.
“But we’re closed for the night and I’m ready to go”
So I turned off the light and shut the window.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
Scratching and gnawing giving me proof
That this crack whore was desperate and needed a beer
Or maybe she needed some holiday cheer.
She broke through the skylight and came down with a thud.
Her panties were twisted and covered with mud.
Way too much makeup was covering her face
And her sad bloodshot eyes were scanning the place.
Her eyes- how they crossed! Her hair was so scary!
I pitied the loser who had popped her cherry.
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And her nose was all white from doing some blow.
The stump of a blunt she held tight in her teeth.
And the stench of her body encircled her head like a wreath;
She had a broad face and a round big fat belly,
And she reached to a table for a packet of jelly.
She slurped it up quickly and looked at the shelf
I picked up a steak knife to protect myself.
The bottles of liquor went straight to her head,
And I knew right away I had nothing to dread;
She spoke not a word, but went straight to the whiskey.
She downed the whole bottle and asked “did you miss me?”
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
She took one deep sniff and reached into her clothes.
In her hand was the coupon for the beer that was free
She said thank you, then burped and gave it to me.
I opened the door and she went out of sight,
Saying “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight.”