Sunday, February 15, 2009

Valentine's Day Blind Date 4

“Pleasure to meet you! Call me ‘El’” said Elba, introducing herself as she rose from her seat with the grace and fluidity of a stalk of wheat in the wind. “This is my companion, Josephine,” she said, reaching down to give the alert Shepherd a pat. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for both of us. I believe the paté has arrived,” she said, now seated and deeply inhaling of the fragrant foie gras.

Evil Editor stroked his muttonchops and surveyed the situation. The chick was hot; apparently she was also blind. But then again, this was a blind date. The table was okay and dog was tolerable; (under the circumstances) but the main reason he agreed to see Elba was because the restaurant had a chef from Hell’s Kitchen. Evil took a seat, a paté-smeared cracker and a long draught from the golden snifter of brandy to his right, briefly succumbing to a mild fit of discomfiture as he realized that the paté didn’t suck. “Not bad,” he mumbled. “What’s for Supper?”

“You’ll be surprised,” replied Elba.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“I’m an anonymous minion who loves you!”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Evil, feeling somewhat cheated suddenly.

“I’ve brought my manuscript!”

“That certainly doesn’t surprise me. But let’s have a look,” sighed Evil.

“Madame and Monsieur, Chef Brian and the entire staff of Chez Fromage hope you enjoy your entrée this evening. Bon appetite!” recited the waiter, placing the dishes onto the table with rehearsed precision as Josephine inched further beneath the table. Elba shoved the manuscript back into the envelope but at the last moment, Evil plucked it from her grasp.

“I think I’ll have a moment for this, later,” said Evil Editor. “In the meantime, this looks divine and smells heavenly. What is it?” he asked, just before his windpipe swelled to constrictive proportions in allergic response to the Steak au Poivre that had been cooked in peanut oil instead of olive oil and he collapsed, writhing on the floor beneath the table as Josephine licked his cheeks in sympathy.

As the gurney was inserted into the back of the ambulance Evil mumbled, before he succumbed to the Demerol, “Able was I ’ere I saw Elba!”

--Meri

9 comments:

fairyhedgehog said...

I don't think EE is ever surprised when a minion declares their love. Maybe if it was a male minion?

Cleverly set up for the punchline.

Dave F. said...

First, a paté-smeared cracker you never schmeer paté on a cracker, you schmeer it on matzo.
Second, A PUN! Go get the sackcloth and ashes...
A whole bowl of those heart-shaped candies with the cute sayings! Hearts for all.

Wes said...

I'm sorry. I laughed at the blind date bit. How insentitive of me.

Nice job. Nice punchline, if it's what I think it is.

Sarah Laurenson said...

the restaurant had a chef from Hell’s Kitchen

You know what the man likes!

Nice pun.

sylvia said...

*groan* I read the last line and wanted to join Josephine under the table!

Hebe said...

Aha madam deloved.

Hebe said...

Actually I meant:

Aha madam deloved, madam aha.

My brain is running on the dregs of Dom Perigon and chocolate :)

Robin S. said...

Love the punchline, Meri! You're devious. A trait I so admire!!

And as for FH's comment, yeah, I do think sometimes how funny it would be if EE had us all in one room. The love declarations...many a man would have his head swollen, but EE, he'd be cool.

talpianna said...

Does anyone else see this with the word "paté" always overtyped with another word?