Thou Shalt Not Steal *
* most of the time
I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I should be better than this.
A local restaurant I frequent in Midland Park, NJ just introduced another dessert named after me. It's Bailey's Irish Cream gelato with a dark chocolate lace broken throughout, and it is very good.
--- I say "another" because they also carry one more flavor that I came up with - Dark chocolate gelato with a raspberry ribbon running through it topped with a fried disk of Proscuitto. You crack the Proscuitto with your spoon and the shards of salty pork scatter throughout, making a perfect salty/sweet experience in your mouth... Kinda like blowing a sweaty Italian man that ate a lot of pineapples the night before, I assume. ---
But getting back to my story - The owner of the restaurant texted me early one evening last week... An evening where my wife and I were childless between the hours of 3 and 6:30 PM due to various sports and drama club requirements for all three of my liabilities. As soon as I received the text, the bride and I jumped in the whip and headed to Arturo's for (what I was hoping would be) a free dessert tasting.
We got there, and the place was empty, as so many Italian restaurants tend to be at 3:30 PM on a Tuesday.
We took our rightful spots at the far corner of the bar, and our second favorite bartender, Harry, immediately started on our drinks. Since this was day drinking that would ultimately end in picking up the kids, Annie and I decided we would be uncharacteristically one-and-done with the drinks, and we also decided that "when in Rome", we were going to have a gentlemanly late-lunch/early-dinner before we tried the gelato. We would then simply pick up some disgraceful takeout for the kids closer to 7 PM after they all returned to the nest.
I had the Linguine Puttanesca (which is Italian for 'sauce of the whores' since the base of the sauce includes filthy whore-ish smelling anchovies) while my wife had Rigatoni Grande Peni (which is Italian for 'big penis' since it is only served to women who are married to well-endowed men).
The lunch/dinner was fantastic. The drinks were perfect. The gelato was exactly how I envisioned it. And we left Arturo's around 5:30 PM satisfied with our dining experience AND with an hour to spare before we needed to become parents again.
--- I am getting to a point, but just taking the literary long road because I am pretty proud of the aforementioned desserts, I suppose. ---
SOOOO fast forward to almost 7 PM and I am in the car with my middle guy heading home when I remember that I need to pick up dinner. I make a quick call to a local bar/restaurant and order 2 dozen buffalo wings, an order of chicken fingers, and a large Ceasar salad.
The place I called is probably best known for its wings and also thin-crust bar pies, but since it was just the kids eating that night, I thought some wings and a salad would be more than enough... Pizza would've been overkill.
My son and I pulled up to the bar and he opted to wait in the car while I ran in to get it.
I got to the front desk and gave my name. The people working there that night seemed busy, but certainly not buried with customers, and the lovely young lady who took my phone order rang me up while another waitress got my order from the kitchen. The bill was in-line with my order and I left a very healthy tip because I like doing that. I waited maybe another 2 minutes and the waitress walked out with my order, and then I was on my way.
Except it wasn't that simple.
The waitress walked out with my order BUT she had my order resting on top of 2 pizza boxes.
As she walked up to me I was wondering whether I would just be offered the 2 paper bags on top of the pizza boxes OR if a wonderful mistake had been made.
Now, I am not an overly religious man, but if there is a God in heaven, I am relatively sure She is a black woman. And that celestial bitch was certainly smiling upon Her humble servant that night because the busy waitress had forced her whole payload into my waiting arms... Pizzas and all.
As the waitress quickly turned her back and walked away to replace some croutons at the salad bar, I hesitated where I stood for a few seconds... Almost waiting for someone to realize a grave and beautiful mistake had been made and then approach me to take back the pizzas I did not order nor pay for.
In my mind, I was set to tell whoever realized the mistake that, "Oh, my (black female) God... My wife placed the order, so I wasn't aware of exactly what she requested... Sorry for the confusion."
I was also mentally prepared if the woman who took my order just a handful of minutes ago called bullshit to my 'wife-called-excuse' and pointed out that a man that sounded an awful lot like me (not my wife) placed the order. If that were to happen, I was prepared to respond, "That is because my wife is currently transitioning, and I am outraged that your employees are so quick to assume gender."
But all of those excuses were never used because in the few seconds I stood there, nothing happened... So I turned and hurriedly made my way for the exit.
Once I tasted the sweet air of freedom in the parking lot I speed-walked to my car, threw my loot in the backseat, and sped off.
My son/accomplice said as we drove out of sight, "Dad... We didn't order any pizza."
To which I answered, "Shut the fuck up, son... Daddy has a migraine."
I returned home just as my wife was getting back with the other 2 kids and we set the three of them up at the counter in the kitchen for what was now a fucking feast.
I wound up eating 4 slices myself, and they were especially delicious because they were stolen.
I know this wasn't a victimless crime and the people who ordered these 2 pies ordered one with bacon on it... I don't normally like bacon on pizza, but I hold no animosity towards these people for ordering it.
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The rest of the night went as planned, as I was saying good night to my clan before I retired to my room, I spent an extra minute in the middle guy's room... Just to make sure we were on the same page.
Son, I think we're both aware that dear-old Dad didn't pay for those pizzas tonight, correct?
Yeah, Dad, I figured.
And I think we can also agree that stealing isn't right, but those pizzas were especially delicious tonight, correct again?
Yeah, Dad... I didn't even mind the (free) bacon.
So can we also agree that this little caper is something that we DO NOT need to mention to Mom?... We're not hiding it from her, but sometimes what she doesn't know won't hurt us, correct one more time?
Yeah, Dad... This one is between us.
And I left his room feeling not only safer but also slightly closer to my boy. At least until he said one more thing as I was closing his door.
Hey, Dad?
Yes, son.
Can we steal more food tomorrow?
FUCK.
Take a report.
-Large
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-L