Kids in Restaurants - Part 2

I want to set the record straight. My parents never hit me, but I never really got out of control. I didn't act up, because I wanted them to be proud of me, and most of all I had respect for them. Parents, your Elders, you respected them. Now....Screw that! Damn, things have changed.

I'm talking to my Server at my table at a restaurant, and at the table next to me this nine year old mutant of society grabs him by the back of my apron and says: "I need ranch dressing!"

He is talking to me about some mutual friends we have and this little wench interrupts us. Hey, you need more than Ranch dressing, you little inbred lady. You need to say the words "Excuse me" and "Please." Oh, and to make it worse, her mom, a little mousey fuck didn't say a damn thing. This woman was the type that if you were banging her, you'd be worrying about her kid trying to steal your socks. Then the kid would ask, "Are you my daddy?" Which you'd have to respond by saying, "No, you're father is at the state fair, eating a bologna sandwich and running the Tilt-A-Whirl. And, no we aren’t going to play Wii later!"

So this lady doesn't say a word. Not a fucking god damn thing. No attempt to correct this display of bad mannerism. She ignored it all. Hey guess what? Your daughter says she needs Ranch dressing? Guess again! She needs more than Ranch! What she needs is for you to teach her some fucking manners! Oh, and I need to take my server’s peppermill and smack it against her rude, bad genes head. And when I get done with that little rude pain in the ass, I'll need to beat you. Just on principle.

Is it that parents are afraid of their kids, or is it that many parents shouldn't be parents?

I am a Denny’s with a hangover. All I want is some Moons over Miami and a cup of coffee to ease my pain.

I would have gone to IHOP but am not a huge fan of their breakfasts. Things like the Rooty Tooty Fresh ‘N Fruity combo and The Butterscotch Rocks Pancakes are just to damn sweet. I go out to eat to start my day off right, not to have dessert. You finish something at IHOP and you end up having such a major sugar rush. You are flying so high, that you feel like you were just on a bender with Andy Dick. Whatever happened to regular pancakes? I mean do we really need a Triple Fudge, Cookie Dough, Godiva Dark Chocolate, Snickers, Kit Kat, Rocky Road Ice Cream, Caramel Sauce, Pop Rocks, Charleston Chew and Tastycake Peanut Butter Tandycake topped hotcake?

Sitting at the table next to me, are two couples and a bunch of their siblings. Oh, and the little ones were banging away on the table with their silverware. Just banging away like there was no tomorrow. Bang, bang, bang, bang! Shit, I thought I was at a Stomp audition! Better yet, I thought I was listening to Neil Peart doing a fucking drum solo on a live Rush CD. And through this irritating and everlasting percussion impromptu, the parents didn't say a word. They didn't say a fucking thing! Not a "Be Quiet," not a "Calm Down," not even a "Shut Up!" They just ignored it all!

Well, hey thanks for reading Dr. Spock, folks! Oh, and thanks for my fucking headache not going away. But thanks for my relaxation, going away! I really needed this migraine just as I was getting my day started!

You need to break out of your trance and tell your kid to shut the fuck up! You need to put a stop to their craziness, before I take matters into my own hands! And honestly, I don't think you want to see those "Little Darlings" sitting across from you with a salad fork puncturing their retina.

To be continued...