Friday, March 11, 2011

Moose And Mooch



Egg McMuffin.JPG

Warning: F-bomb alert. Should you find that offensive, please stop reading now. I assure you, however, it would be impossible for me to tell this little tale of misspent youth without it. Really.


We called him Mooch for the obvious reason. He was, in truth, a good kid, just constantly broke and always willing to have you supply a remedy. An example: One day as we were tramping along somewhere, I bemoaned my own lack of funds. Turning to another friend, Mooch said

Gimme five bucks.

The fiver was grudgingly produced and handed over. Before I could even roll my eyes he handed it to me.

Here. You can pay me back anytime.

Moose was not particularly moose-like. His surname was Muszynski, which was evidently two syllables too many. But enough introductions.


The Oldsmobile flew past me, stopped short, and backed up far too fast. Moose rolled down his window.

Hey man, want a ride?

OK.

We're going to McD's first.

Whatever.

Mooch was shotgun. I hopped in the back and we pealed out, squealing into the McDonald's parking lot much too soon after. Mooch piped up.

Get me a fuckin' Egg McMuffin, willya?

Moose was indignant.

Bullshit! Don't you ever have any cash?

Aw, c'mon man. Just get me a fuckin' Egg McMuffin.

Moose thought for a second, then his eyes lit up.

All right. I'll tell ya what. You go in there and order a fuckin' Egg fuckin' Mc fuckin' Muffin fuckin'. You don't say anything else, got me? You walk up and order a fuckin' Egg fuckin' Mc fuckin' Muffin fuckin', just like that, and I'll pay for it.

Done!

If it was going to cost him anyway, at least Moose was going to be entertained. After a quick rehearsal take, we walked in.

Can I help you?

Yeah. Gimme a fuckin' Egg fuckin' Mc fuckin' Muffin fuckin'.

The cashier barely looked up.

Ya want some fuckin' orange juice with that?

Right before Moose and I completely lost it, we heard Mooch

Aw, what the fuck.

If this story has a moral, I don't see it. And that is just as well.


Respectfully Yours,


Cricket




12 comments:

Elaine said...

That's the funniest thing I've read in months! Lol.

Jillsy Girl said...

LMOA...I just got up and this was the best laugh to start the day off!! :-)

TechnoBabe said...

Good on the cashier. I like people who have quick responses. The working did need to be just like you wrote it. Where is Mooch now? Head of a corporation?

Bossy Betty said...

That cashier is my hero!

Barbara Shallue said...

Betty beat me to it - I love that cashier!

Hilary said...

Love it.. she's a gem.

lime said...

bwahahaha! makes me think of the scene in :planes, trains, and automobiles" where the steve martin character finally looses his cool and goes on an f-bomb laden tirade agasint a car rental agent who then calmly tells him, "you're fucked."

who needs a moral when you get a good laugh?

john said...

Now THAT'S funny, I don't care who you are!

john said...

Oh, to answer TechnoBabe, my guess is that mooch is a writer for "the socialist worker", or a 'community organiser' for acorn or some such...

Anonymous said...

Here from Suldog's...you rule!

lailani said...

lol! That beats when my step daughter asked her father for $5 - he said yes if she would hold the dog's collar and walk over the electric fence. She did, twice!

Land of shimp said...

Hahahaha! That's wonderful, Cricket.

Allow me to share one from the other side of the counter. My son works two jobs at present, trying to save up money so that he can't live my dreadful self next year, as he goes to school. I wish him well...and he works at the Marriot and at a Wendy's nearby. Ah, to twenty and unskilled. It's sucks.

So it happened that a customer drove through the drive-thru, that my son was not working, ordered a sandwich without cheese, but received one with.

This was an affront of such great magnitude that this individual arrived home, perceived the offending cheese, and drove back...where he stomped inside, found Flint, the first handy employee, and began to scream like Ox stuck in tar for no less than ten minutes. Flint, as he had been instructed to say, kept repeating, "I'm sorry sir, would you like me to get a manager?"

After having pointed out that he was very sorry, and was not working the drive-thru(said drive-thru employee made the valiant choice of quitting on the spot and fleeing out the back door, wise lad).

Scream, scream, shout shout. This man managed a restaurant he claimed and if that had happened in HIS restaurant there would be free food, drink and more of the same for the NEXT time someone came in. This goes on for ten minutes, everyone is staring at the freaky shouting man with growing apprehension. He finally takes his remade sandwich, and stomps off in a huff.

Everyone in the vicinity, customers all of them, start asking Flint if he's okay and everyone is very kind to him. A kid his age comes stomping up and and says, cheeks puffed out, mock screaming for emphasis:

"My sandwich had cheese on it, and now I'm going to cut your balls off!"

And the entire place bursts out laughing.

I'm pretty sure that cashier had met cheese guy in a different incarnation to handle that with such aplomb :-)