Dinner at Le Flavour


She stood in front of her bathroom mirror, graciously applying a thick coat of crimson red lipstick. She smelled of Chanel. Her dress was perfect: tight yet classy, chic yet provocative, and curvaceous in all the right places. A Louis Vuitton bag hung loosely over one shoulder; tonight was date night, her first since she was a teenager. Marleen was thirty one years old; she was attractive, smart, successful, and single; her promotion at the bank from teller to a financial advisor promised her an obscene amount of money, more than she had ever known. Tremors shook from the unexpected anxiety of not knowing who her date was, some mystery man she’d just met off the internet by the name of William Dunce.

Over the last few years, Marleen’s dating had been disastrous, so disastrous in fact she’d given up on dating all together. A big promotion at work from bank teller to a financial advisor promised her an obscene amount of money, more than she had ever known. While working as a teller, she’d put herself through college, and now was her opportunity to shine, an opportunity to connect in a relationship involving possible longevity.

“Damn thirty, damn it straight to hell,” Marleen thought. She smoothed the rest of her lipstick around in a leveling process, turned off the lights to all the rooms, and headed out the door. The date at Le Flavour had been his idea; he had to be a man of classy intent, a man of taste and integrity.

 “Table for one, ma’am?”

Marleen was startled. “Yes; I mean no,” she said. “I’m waiting for my date.”

The waiter laughed a bit under his breath. “Ma’am I’m a bit of a waiter too, if you know what I mean. Waiting for great beautiful customers like yourself,” he said. His words carried a slight French accent and a terrible sense of humor. She hardly paid attention to him, but humored him with a condescending chuckle. “Can I get you a drink, madam,” he asked.

“No, no thank you,” she said. “I’d just like for my date to be here.”

Marleen was up and ready to leave; she’d waited long enough and had full intentions of walking out; then, he finally arrived. Marleen looked down at her date’s clothes, realizing what his occupation was. An auto mechanic from the next town over, William Dunce showed up to Le Flavour in filthy work clothes; he smiled a mostly toothless black grin at her. Large hairy moles decorated the jowls hanging off his face.

“Big Willy is what they call me, if ya know what I mean” he said to her while nudging her arm.

 “Did he just say that to me?” she thought. She couldn’t believe he just said that. She couldn’t believe how terrible his comb over was. “Of course they do,” Marleen thought; she couldn’t get over how sloppy he was dressed; she couldn’t believe he just said that. She ignored the comment and hoped for the best.

“Table for two?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, table for two is fine,” Marleen said. Given how she couldn’t see the skin of his hands under the muck, she didn’t shake Willy’s hand; she was grateful she didn’t get the chance to.

Through a wooden door, a large figure in a pig costume passed along the back of the restaurant. Marleen had to take a second glance…was that a sport’s mascot? Perhaps someone fresh off a game looking to use a bathroom? What would a sport’s mascot be doing in a place like this?! As the large biped hog disappeared into the back of the restaurant, Marleen thought to herself. “Talk about an elephant in the room, or should I say a pig.”

They were seated. The music was soft and airy in the background under the intellectual conversations of the several patrons. Willy’s clothes were smeared in gunk; his body odor was pungent. The pig hadn’t been seen since, but she thought she heard an occasional oinking sound coming from the back room; it now seemed as if another form of pig was sitting across from her.

“I’m ready to order, I don’t know about you,” Big Willy said.

“Yeah sure,” Marleen replied, anxious to get this fucking date done and over with.

“Do you’s guys have da burgahs and fwies?” Willy asked. The waiter tipped his head as if he were a dog hearing a high pitched dog whistle.

“No sir, we do not have burgers and fries,” he said. “If I could recommend you to a place sir, I’d recommend you to the Jack in the Box down the street.”

Just then, a squeaking sound began to lift out from under the chair of Big Willy Dunce. The sound lasted a good ten seconds, cutting off and starting up again towards the final few seconds of its chirping. Marleen looked directly into the face of her odious date and understood exactly what had transpired; her date, Big Willy Dunce, had just farted in one of the classiest restaurants in the entire county; he had a huge gaping smile on his face.

The dining area went silent. After a while, all the patrons along with Big Willy Dunce began laughing hysterically. Seven large figures dressed in pig costumes marched from out of the back room blowing on party favors. Big Willy began yelling at the top of his voice, “I FAHTED! I FAHTED!” The patrons looked each other in the eyes, and then they too began farting. Marleen was more embarrassed than she had ever been in her entire life, and the smell of flatulence was atrocious. One couple began having sex right out in the open on their dining table, sliding back and forth over a bowl of mussels and clams over pasta covered in a white wine sauce. Marleen ran into the bathroom, stuck her head down into a toilet bowl, and vomited profusely.