RE: genji
05-17-2017, 04:10 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-17-2017, 04:11 AM by a52.)
I'm at a fine restaurant in downtown Seattle, sitting at a window seat with a pretty young lady with black hair. She sips her red wine as we discuss philosophy and exchanging furtive glances into one another's eyes.
The waiter passes by, and I complement the young man on his excellent service before asking him to refill our glasses. "Thank you <sir/madam>," he replies. "More of the Cherry? Or would <sir/madam> prefer the Soarin' Stawberry Lemonade?"
"I think the Cherry will do just fine," I respond. My date just nods, still thinking about our previous discussion on the various flawed aspects of Nietzsche's Untimely Meditations.
"Excellent. I shall be right back." The waiter hurries off to get the order of another table before making his way through the crowded central room to the wine rack.
My date and I take this opportunity to stare deeply into one another's eyes.
The waiter returns, and begins to to pour into each of our glasses. But while he inserts a new silly straw into my date's glass, a sudden clatter from a nearby table startles him, the straw slips, and the glass tumbles off the table!
With lightning speed, I snatch the glass from the air before it even has a chance to notice its descent. I had in fact been preparing for this moment, tensing my whole body, predicting that the teenage clumsiness of the barely postpubescent waiter would eventually, and inevitably, lead to such a predicament. My date screams and points. A single drop escapes the tumbling chalice, and slowly makes its way to the silk tablecloth in a parabolic arc. But I was to fast for it. Before she even finishes pointing (in fact, before I even finish catching the glass), I slip a napkin directly underneath the droplet of wine, where it lands, directly in the center of the napkin.
Staring directly at her shocked face, and into her beautiful brown eyes, I silently mouth a single phrase --
The waiter passes by, and I complement the young man on his excellent service before asking him to refill our glasses. "Thank you <sir/madam>," he replies. "More of the Cherry? Or would <sir/madam> prefer the Soarin' Stawberry Lemonade?"
"I think the Cherry will do just fine," I respond. My date just nods, still thinking about our previous discussion on the various flawed aspects of Nietzsche's Untimely Meditations.
"Excellent. I shall be right back." The waiter hurries off to get the order of another table before making his way through the crowded central room to the wine rack.
My date and I take this opportunity to stare deeply into one another's eyes.
The waiter returns, and begins to to pour into each of our glasses. But while he inserts a new silly straw into my date's glass, a sudden clatter from a nearby table startles him, the straw slips, and the glass tumbles off the table!
With lightning speed, I snatch the glass from the air before it even has a chance to notice its descent. I had in fact been preparing for this moment, tensing my whole body, predicting that the teenage clumsiness of the barely postpubescent waiter would eventually, and inevitably, lead to such a predicament. My date screams and points. A single drop escapes the tumbling chalice, and slowly makes its way to the silk tablecloth in a parabolic arc. But I was to fast for it. Before she even finishes pointing (in fact, before I even finish catching the glass), I slip a napkin directly underneath the droplet of wine, where it lands, directly in the center of the napkin.
Staring directly at her shocked face, and into her beautiful brown eyes, I silently mouth a single phrase --
![[Image: egg006.png?raw=1]](https://www.dropbox.com/s/xirjasxjrie6qdn/egg006.png?raw=1)
![[Image: Gou1RJu.png]](https://i.imgur.com/Gou1RJu.png)