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Author’s Note: This little bit of extraordinarily stale humor is dedicated to Laika. You can blame her for its inspiration!!!

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Two well-dressed ladies, way long out of several very interesting closets, dined together weekly. On this particular week, they had chosen the Tavern on the Green in Manhattan’s Central Park. Having made the reservations well in advance, they were able to procure a window table for two in the Crystal room. It was a very rare slow week day evening.

A quite nattily attired waiter attended the two women; first bringing a basket of freshly baked rolls and butter still warm from the oven, and two leather-bound cartes de jour.

“May I take your drink orders?” The waiter asked in a most affected and flamboyant, manner.

“Yes. I would like a glass of Shazam,” replied the woman wearing the pearl pink silk blouse.

“You know Ruthie…that sounds divine. I’ll have a Shazam as well.”

“Do you mean a Shiraz madam?” The waiter rolls his eyes and slowly shook his head.

“Oh…that would be nice as well.” Ruthie eyed the waiter luridly.

The waiter shook his head once again figuring that there had to be one in every crowd; just his luck to get two! The ladies then began to discuss the various items listed on the menu.

“Oh Dorie…I simply adore Lobster Bisque!” Ruthie was most animated in her excitement over the choices offered. She reached for the basket, lifted the linen keeping the rolls warm, and placed one of the little morsels upon her bread plate. Ruthie then spoke in her very rich throaty alto voce. “By the way, don’t you think that waiter is the cutest? I love his little mustache and goatee.”

“I must say, it’s been a while since I’ve had the feel of one of those on my…privates.” Dorie giggled. “And especially from anyone under the age of sixty!” She outright laughed. Dorie’s face suddenly turned sour as she reached for a roll. “This one is as hard as a rock! The butter is frozen! However will I spread it?”

“Willfully, I hope dear.” They both giggled with Ruthie’s somewhat crude reply.

As the waiter returned with their glasses of wine, Dorie accosted him with her tale of frozen butter and the seemingly stale roll. The waiter, being ever patient with all types of customers, quickly grabbed the basket and butter after placing the wine down in front of the ladies. He knew the bread was freshly made but who was he to argue with a potential gratuity.

The ladies raised their glasses and Ruthie decided to create an impromptu toast.

“Here’s to a closet full of clothes and us on the outside!” Her voice was full of glee.

They clinked glasses and tasted the wine. Dorie savored hers but Ruthie lips pursed and then her face puckered as though she had just bit into a lemon.

“Whatever is the matter dear?” Dorie’s face showed great concern for her companion.

“This Shazam tastes vinegary! It’s awful.”

“Well perhaps it was from a different bottle?”

“All I know is that it tastes terrible.”

As their waiter returned with a new basket of bread and the defrosted butter, he was barraged by the very upset Ruthie and her sour glass of wine. The waiter, being a man of some distinction and a master of the art of serving, nodded and removed the glass. He simply shook his head knowing that both glasses were from the same bottle and left to replace the liquid anyway.

The ladies finally got down to the task of ordering their banquet. They always shared everything at their little meetings and so could have a wider variety of whatever was being offered. Aside from the lobster bisque as an opener, both opted for the salad with the sour cream magtag blue cheese dressing.

This would be followed by the steak Tartar with a quail egg and the seared yellow fin tuna. A portion of oysters would accompany the appetizers. Then the serious discussion began of what entrees would best suit the occasion. Ruthie commented that another waiter and an additional plate of oysters might do the trick.

“The trick!” They almost spoke in unison, eyes alighted and brows arched with their bit of naughtiness, as the waiter returned to take their orders.

As the waiter patiently stood by their table side, the ladies quickly went through the openers for their meal. However, and much to the chagrin of the waiter, things became bogged down when it came to the entrees. An animated discussion began over the merits of the Fruits de Mer versus the roasted lobster; and that over the duck!

The waiter, whose name turned out to be Duffy, was consulted several times.

“Yes madam, the lobsters are indeed two pounds…no madam, they are very tender and succulent…yes madam, the fries are crispy…no madam, the vegetables are Tuscan style, they are NOT from Tuscany!!!”

And so it went for nearly fifteen minutes. The waiter, being an old pro at dealing with the ‘theatre crowd’ and, being quite accustomed to how picky and fussy the ‘ladies’ can be, held his own against the barrage of questions concerning the cuisine.

Finally Ruthie and Dorie committed themselves to their second courses. The waiter gratefully left their table to place the order with the kitchen. As he withdrew, he wiped his perspiring fore head with the serving linen draped over his forearm as he muttered under his breath, quite disparagingly; “Old drag queens”.

Ruthie and Dorie continued their conversation and dissection for the dinner, the waiter and how the service was a bit lacking. What with the stale bread, frozen butter and sour wine, whatever could be next on the list of potential disasters?

Finally their soups had arrived. They steam wafted off the bowls and the aroma of cream and the sea filled the air around the two ladies. Duffy placed the bowls in front of the ladies along with several packets of crackers. They literally raced to see who could get the first spoonful of the creamy pastel orange liquid into their mouths. Ruthie was first.

“Oh dear Lord! This is simply wicked; so very rich.”

“Indeed my dear. Though the after taste is a bit chalky and, dare I say it? It tastes a bit like my estrogen caps.”

“Your estrogen caps?! You’re not telling me that you actually bit into one?” Ruthie was shocked.

“It was a case of mistaken identity. I thought it was a Vicoden.” Dorie giggled.

“You’re not supposed to bite into those either.”

“I know.” Dorie replied with a sly look on her face. “But it does hasten the relief.” Both ladies giggled.

“How could you possibly confuse them? The pills are also two different colors!”

“Well, I was preoccupied thinking about a man.” Ruthie’s eye suddenly opened wide and her brows arched as a huge grin parted her thin lips.

“A man? What man???”

“Oh, any man will do actually.” Again they both broke out into laughter.

“Just image if this was an estrogen soup. Dear me! I’d probably gain a cup size between the hormones and the fat.”

They both chuckled again.

Suddenly, a fly poked its head above the soup in the bowl and began swimming for the edge of Ruthie’s bowl.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeke!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There’s a fly in my soup! Duffy, Duffy!!!” Ruthie quickly dropped her spoon into the bisque splattering droplets across her new silk blouse, her face, the table cloth and Dorie.
Poor Duffy came running quickly to the table wondering what new imperfection had taken the ladies attention.

“Yes Madam?” Duffy stood with his hands in prayer position.

“What is this fly doing in my soup? And I’ll wager you’ll say; ‘the breast stroke’!”

This offended Duffy to no end. How dare these old Queens assume his indifference to a fly in the soup? He took one dramatic step backward, placed his right hand over his heart, and finally spoke.

“I’m a frayed knot!!!” He exclaimed in a rather loud voice. (So there Rita! Now you can share the blame with Laika! Giggle)

Duffy looked at the stained table cloth, Ruthie’s face and her soiled blouse. He suddenly began to twirl the ends of his moustache.

“It appears that the winged pest was attempting a three and one half gainer off the high platform and…” Quite dramatically Duffy pointed his index finger skyward as he arched one eyebrow. “…at the last possible moment…” He suddenly smiled wryly. “…it decided to cannon ball into your soup!”

Author’s Note: I have recently procured the services of DiMaggio, Meade, and Associates to assist in the editing, production, and promotion of my work. They come very highly recommended by several of their other clients and I am sure they will do an excellent job.