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Archive for May, 2012

Eating in a diner on Route 66

Posted by Alex On May - 9 - 2012

Shakespeare gripped the laminated menu with both hands. “They put cheese on fucking everything,” he said.

“It’s not on everything,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“No, it’s not on the mozzarella sticks,” said Shakespeare. “Fuck me, no wonder they’re all so fucking obese. Look at that fat bastard over there.” He gestured at a giant man in a polo shirt and baseball cap, sitting on his own. “He must have about 60 per cent body fat. That’s more than a pork scratching.”

“Just choose something to eat,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor. “I’m going to have a garden salad.”

“You can get that with cheese on,” said Shakespeare.

“No you can’t,” said Ellis-Bextor.

Shakespeare slammed the menu down on the table. “You fucking can. Wait until we order. I bet we can get cheese on it.”

“Oh, they’ll do it if we ask,” said Ellis-Bextor. “That’s just being accommodating. They’re not encouraging people to have cheese on a garden salad though.”

Shakespeare stared into the middle distance. “It’s always that same cheese as well. What is it? It’s so unnervingly neutral. Why is something so nondescript so unbelievably popular.”

“Just choose something to eat,” snapped Ellis-Bextor tetchily.

“Maybe I’ll have a cheese steak sandwich,” mumbled Shakespeare in a mongy voice. “Why do they say ‘cheese steak’ like that’s a thing; like it’s a steak made entirely out of cheese? Maybe it is.”

“Will you please just choose something to eat,” said Ellis-Bextor.

“Or maybe I’ll have a ‘patty melt’. Do you know what the ‘melt’ part of that is?”

“That’s enough,” said Ellis-Bextor, sounding like a prissy teacher. “Just what is the matter with you? What is this sudden antipathy towards cheese? You love cheese.”

Shakespeare unexpectedly burst into tears. “I do love cheese,” he blubbed, a snot bubble forming from his nostril and then bursting. “I’m homesick. I miss home cheese.”

Ellis-Bextor put her head in her hands.

“I want home cheese,” whined Shakespeare.

They sat in silence for a minute or so, Shakespeare drying his eyes and wiping his nose.

A waitress approached. “Hey, what can I get you guys?”

“Do you have any home cheese?” said William Shakespeare in a childish monotone.

“What?” said the girl.

“Home cheese,” repeated Shakespeare mournfully.

Silence.

“Home cheese,” he said again, a little more insistently.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You want something with cheese?”

Shakespeare’s head tipped forward. He stared down at his lap. “Home cheese,” he said again.

“He means brie,” said Ellis-Bextor.

“What’s brie?” said the waitress.

Shakespeare started crying again.

Filling up the car on Route 66

Posted by Alex On May - 2 - 2012

Sophie Ellis-Bextor was putting petrol in the car while William Shakespeare stood nearby, contributing nothing whatsoever. A large middle-aged woman in horn-rimmed spectacles stopped next to them on her way back to a giant saloon car.

“Hey, are you William Shakespeare?” she said. “I’m a massive fan of your work.”

“Fuck off,” spat Shakespeare and stared at her as she slunk off looking hurt and confused.

“Why do you have to be like that?” asked Sophie Ellis-Bextor. “She might have been a fan of your sonnets.”

“She was a fucking Romeo and Juliet fan,” said Shakespeare. “You could tell by the size of her arse.”

“You could still have been nice to her,” said Ellis-Bextor. “I’m always nice to my fans.”

Shakespeare snorted. “The best thing you’ve ever done is Groovejet and that was fully wank. I don’t think you really need to worry about getting hassle off fans.”

“You can really upset people sometimes,” said Ellis-Bextor, looking down at the fuel nozzle with a sad look on her face.

“You’re the one who recorded Groovejet,” countered Shakespeare.

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