Dinner Theater

Last Saturday Tim and I went to eat catfish at McCollum's in Decatur. It was around 11:00 am when we arrived. We sat and ordered (him small catfish plate, me catfish and shrimp), and were having light, casual conversation - catching up after working all week.

Well, Radar Ears (me - like Jimmy calls me when I listen to people in bars and resturants) started to hear a commotion in the kitchen. It sounded like the owner (this 125 year old woman, in a bad wig, with long nails and always has a cigarette hanging out of her mouth) and her son (approximately 60 years old and not very bright) were starting an argument. The voices excalated and the words were getting harsher and harsher. Then you started hearing him come to the window where the waitresses place orders and telling them "No more GD tickets, We are closing this place down." Then, "Get the keys and lock the GD door." He then went back to yelling and screaming with his mother among the cooks in the kitchen.

Of course, me and Tim were loving it! Listening to every word. I even told him "I hope they don't quit fighting - this is like dinner theater." Isn't that sick? Well, son comes out of the kitchen and goes into the office which I have a clear view of, and starts unplugging the computer and packing it up along with some other stuff. He comes around to the front and starts telling the waitresses how crazy she (his mother is) and all this stuff. Says the argument started over a mop bucket. While this is going on, Mom exits the kitchen and goes into the office. One of the waitresses is watching her. She leaves the office with somthing stuck under her arm in her fur coat. Tim says "I hope it is not a gun." By this time we had gotten our food (when our waitress delivered it she said "at least y'all got yours) and were thoroughly enjoying it. I told Tim, "If we have to drop to the floor, I am taking my plate with me."

Well, it ends up the Mom had left out the back. The waitress that was watching her tells Son that Mom took all the money bags. He starts wigging out and writing all these stupid little notes on a napkin. Then pulls out a little notebook from his pocket and starts writing in that. After that he starts telling anyone who will listen what medication he has to take. If I heard him say "a baby aspirin" one more time I thought I might shoot him. Realizing that the fun is over we quitly finish our meal and leave.

Wish Ma had come back with the POE POE! ( I know that is definately not how you spell it)

Have a good weekend.