Date:	2006-10-23 03:34
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	sleepy
Music:	SHAME SHAME!!!!!!

heres a miserable story for u kids who aren't familar wit my miserable "writing skills":

Death Has a New Name
By Anwaro Garrarazi


Snap, snap Went the waitress’ gum. She glared at my mother with a hideous concoction of mawkishness, a terrible mixture of hatred and an infinite sadness that seemed to darken the already squalid environment. This place was filthy in the superlative form.
It had been several hours of uninterrupted waiting the woman had endured. She was too mortified by the unacceptable sanitation levels to sit down. This was strange because these very same place with the 1950’s theme was the very same one she sacrificed her blood and sweat was to each day of her miserable existence.
As inexplicable as all of this might seem, it is actually a regular routine that my mother and I have come accustomed to.
Our waiter’s name tag read Morgan. This woman, being the only employee of this miserable establishment, was so morbid that her lip began to quiver in disgust of my mother’s actions. Her face turned pure scarlet if though every blood vessel in her face exploded at once. She bit as far down on her face that she could, so hard that the bottom portion of her face began to outpour blood. She then snatched off her red-orange wig that was made to look like it was on the set of “Laverne and Shirley” that made a bald patch in her head and caused a stream of blood to come down her forehead. With her large and highly unfashionable wig still in hand, she made a tremor in the cesspool of grease that was more commonly known as a restaurant, by pounding the termite housing table with her already grease coated hands after every syllable.
“ But why!? Why won’t you just give me your order?! You order the exact same thing everyday, except you slightly change it so I cant make it in advance” after she had realized Her hands now dripping in grease she failed her arms as if though she was drowning in the Atlantic Ocean.

As a result of her following suite of her practice she started to stare at what she always and still suspected to be a doll. A doll that my mother happened to take where ever she went, but in truth that eerie , powered wig , blue tunic with white buttons down from the collar ,wearing doll was me dressed as what my mother, apparently, thought up as a clever disguise . And stare did she ,so much that I thought that I would be found out and my mother would be sent straight to prison where she would serve a sentence for committing such crimes as double homicide, severe child a abuse, endangering the well fair of minors, and other things that are to painful to think of right now. She started to twitch her nose, turned back to my mother, got up, and ask her, for the 16th time, the same question. ‘Can I please take your order ma’am”? My mother, also acting in a predictable manner, didn’t even humor the woman with the impolite slap about the face, that would be delivered to anybody else, but would rather do nothing but scour the menu as if though her eyes were looking in the newspaper’s “want ads” looking for a new purpose, even though she ordered the same thing everyday and plan on doing the same today. The 4th hour of undying rudeness had now just and began; both the waiter and I knew this. She knew if she stood there any longer she would lose her job. She looked at her cracked and dollar store derived keychain. She unlatched it from her dirty department store jean belt strap; she held it with her thumb and forefinger as if though she had just pulled the trigger of a 9mm red steel. She then used her thumb to wipe the coating of grease that had collected over the hours. After realizing what jeopardy she could be putting her children in she instantly knew what she had to do. She turned around and became a running back in my eyes. This woman threw caution to the wind as she made her way to the kitchen. In her rush she came across a table with a food item that most would call a pizza, but if you were to ask me what it was I would tell you it was a despicable crust roofed with grease that metamorphosed into cheese when it’s foolish consumer forsaken it. But this mattered not to her because she showed her athletic ability by making a hurdle over a table that would have even made Donnnavan Mcnabb himself proud. She was so heavy footed in her retreat that she made some asbestos shake loose from the ceiling and come crumbling down in back of her. She came to yet another table and after the thought she was done lunging over it as soon her feet were met with the floor they wee instantaneously swept off of it by a puddle of grease. Her head then came crashing into a metal bucket of grease that splashed all over her head wound. The “grease bucket” was normally used help mop up the grease that complied constantly. But now it might as well be used to mop up her blood considering the amount of it. There she laid in a pool of grease, blood, and agony. In her face it did not show but I knew the pin she must have felt. I don’t know from personal experience but raising a family of five on ten dollars a week be easy especially considering the fact that she knew she could lose her job any day .

i told u

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