Do you know the paper plate man, the paper plate man, the paper plate man?
Do you know the paper plate man, who unintentionally drives Val crazy?
What's that? You DO know the paper plate man? And you say his name is Hick? Winner winner chicken dinner! Don't get your hopes up. I meant a figurative chicken dinner. Around here, a literal chicken dinner might mean a wandering bachelor rooster that was cooked instantly when Genius threw a pan of hot grease off the back porch deck. Not that he's done such a thing, of course. He asked first, and was refused permission.
For the past several weeks, I have been finding sections of torn paper plate around the old homestead. In areas frequented by Hick. They are pieces of the plate edge, about the size of an orange slice, unless you're talking about those tiny oranges they give the kids on their school lunch tray, which are the size of premature baby clementines. Sometimes the torn crescent of paper plate rests upon a paper plate with a crescent torn out of it. Which is kind of like finding a book about coffee tables laying on your coffee table.
I know why the paper plate rips. Hick uses the fragment for picking his teeth. Uh huh. Not very ladylike, I agree. He's kind of a Neanderthal. Not that Neanderthals had paper plates. I'm sure they had proper dishes for their womenfolk to wash up after a hard day of being dragged around by their hair.
It's not like I expect Hick to sit at the right hand of Emily Post, sipping tea from a dainty cup, pinky extended. Or to know the proper sequence for chowing down with an 11-piece formal dinner silverware setting. I barely expect him to limit himself to letting only silent farts escape in crowded elevators. Seriously. There is no need to dig at one's bicuspids with a scrap of Great Value Heavy Duty Grease Resistant plate. Not when there is a nearly-full container of toothpicks in the kitchen cabinet. I know Hick knows they're there. Didn't he break the top off the last pack stored there, because he couldn't figure out that it slides open so you can shake out a toothpick? Great mechanical minds are not immune from stumping, it seems.
Yes, this behavior is on par with that time Hick tilted his head back and shook the remaining crumbs from an individual bag of Lay's Potato Chips into his gaping maw, while sitting at a table along the main walkway from Harrah's hotel elevators to the casino. People watched him like he was an ape at the zoo. Thank goodness he didn't fling poop on them. Or that time he took me to McDermott's (now called Pat's Bar and Grill) for fried chicken, and proceeded to suck the tip of each finger and thumb loudly after each bite. Thank goodness most people in there were too sippy happy to notice.
The only consolation for my discovery of Hick's recent spate of misbehavior is that when we dine in public, he can't break off a piece of his plate to use for picking his teeth.
I think you've just stumbled on a little cottage industry that will enable you to retire early...because Hick will be raking it in in his spare time.
ReplyDeleteWhen Hick is watching television in the evening, give him a stack of paper plates. He can tear them into slivers, then repackage them into sets of 10-12. They can be called "Hick's Toothpickers."
Have him start on them right away. You might be able to retire by the winter break if he's extremely productive.
Hmmm...get up and walk to where the toothpicks are, or just rip off a piece of paper plate...I gotta go with Hick on this one.
ReplyDeleteI'd hate to admit to some of the things I've used to pick my teeth. Maybe it's a guy thing?
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteThat's a most scathingly brilliant idea. The could be sold together, the plate to eat on, and the crescent for picking. Already done, so you don't have to exert yourself creating your hillbilly toothpick. I am running to the patent office before you steal your idea back from me.
*****
joeh,
Lazy slobs of a feather pick together, I suppose. Hope you enjoyed your two-course meal of hot dogs and baloney sammiches. Washed down with a dirty-water cocktail or two, I'm sure.
*****
Stephen,
I'd hate to hear about some of the things you've used to pick your teeth. Yes. It's a guy thing. I'm surprised you haven't been invited to the banquet set out by Joe and Hick. Bring some of your unique toothpicks. They'll make room at the trough for you.
We were out to eat once with my hoity toity sister-in-law, scornful of those leaving the restaurant with toothpicks clamped in their greasy lips ....... guess she would not approve of the paper plate wedge? She thought nothing of whipping out a compact and repairing her make-up at the table .......
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteI suppose you should thank your lucky stars that she did not decide to give herself a bikini wax once her make-up was applied.