ANECDOTE 020: September 13, 2009 [listen]
Fascination Plates Prix Fixe

Perpetual Milieu on View
-- Experience: chance, choice, copy
-- History: response, record, render
-- Memory: educe, indict, indite
View on Milieu Perpetual

     The evening officially began when her son buttoned the back of his mother's dress as his father once did for his wife. He, the surrogate husband, was responsible for quelling their ardent hunger for luxury. He did not hesitate responding to the invitation to dine finely, but did take pause when making the reservation. How discreet should he be concerning this ostentation? How boastful will his mother be, he entertained--and the repercussions: a sonic boom, or a blithe big deal.

     Buttons fastened, she arched her spine and raised her chin. She surprisingly had no need to reciprocate by fastening his collar, nor by correcting his cravat. She was excited that her son was serious with his attire, that her surrogate husband was attuned to the occasion--a blazer beholden.

     "Your father," she huffed.

     "Let's go. We're expected at five-thirty," he charged.

     "Oh, yes! Let's go," she agreed as her mouth began to water.

     He drove to the restaurant while she chatted him with nonsense just to make conversation, provoking him to set some parameters to keep his level of discourse pleasant. He reiterated his concern regarding the occasion, revealing his subconscious guilt.

     "I want to sit in the main room, too" she comforted. "You pay, but we'll split the check."

     "We're on staycation."


     They chortled.


     "Right this way. Here is your table. Comfortable?"

     Shortly after, the menu was presented. She and he, with a demure exclaim, stated that they wanted the full course, but were uncertain as to which wine would be most suitable.

     "Just a glass. I don't drink regularly--plus the medication..."

     "I'll be the designate," she confirmed without hesitation.

     "My mother, nurturing!?!"  He wiped the tearswell from beneath his eye.

     "Well then, might I recommend, from a different Regional bottle with each course, the 'Wine Flight'," enabled the maitre d'.

     Co-conspiring, he asked, "Shall we begin, mommy?" He then smirked.

     "Yes," she thrilled.

     He looked at her with consternation.


     They commenced lovingly. He had never drank with her before. He had with his father--silent sips of beer chasers accompanied by a single-plate dinner special, a coffee (decaf), and a pounding cake dessert (with a short diatribe topping). He had with his Uncle, too, too young not to forget the raucous ranting--the beer taste-testing--bottle versus can:

  • (bottle) the cold 'clink' and 'sip' ceremony befitting a blue cheese bacon-burger; or
  • (can) the warm 'snap' and 'slurp' camaraderie, completed by bay crabs.

     Controlling the conversation, she counted down the number of courses until the dessert cart. He was glad that he had scraped his tongue as part of his oral hygienic repertoire prior to his arrival. He morselled his proportioned meal, preoccupying his desire to discourse. So involved was he that he did not interrupt his mother when she began her motivational speech: her pep talk that segues into a success story soliloquy. He remained attentive even though he had heard this lecture on "Gregariousness" many times before. Suddenly, to his astonishment, she exposed herself to him with a tidbit of information of when she was a child that he had not known: the twist that shall not be spoken unless authorized by her. Distracted by what he had just heard, he listened with one ear as she continued on and on, discussing life expectancies, taxing him with deathly conjectures.

     At this point he was pleased to receive the check. To his credit, if he was not so retentive, he would have expressed his movement right then and there. However, he remained steadfast. She was pleased to escort him home. Once there, she put on her pajamas, then plopped into the plush. He continued coursing with finger-licking chicken breast and mustard.

     In the morning, she awakened, respecting him. She dressed and left promptly. She called him later. He listened to the voicemail, returning the overture at dusk.

Feel free to exercise thought by sending me an email. Be sure to experiment with flavor--and remember, eat your mistakes, uh, ingredients. (Disclaimer)
Copyright © 2009 by Edward K. Brown II, All Rights Reserved