rwoody
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so i used to work at this restaurant as a busboy and i talked to the dishwashers alot. they were pretty much all crackheads. i come back to see a couple people i knew one day, and while i'm there i run into "mr herman." Mr. Herman was a dishwasher who everyone called mr herman for some reason or another, i guess b/c he was old and his name was herman. anyway, his thing was that you would ask him how he was doing and he always said "supergreat" and sometimes started preaching. of course the catch was that he was a huge crackhead too, missing most of his teeth like the other crackheads. he wasn't the grossest of them but he was up there. the whole supergreat/preacherman vs crackhead shows the dichotomy of man or some shit, i guess.
anyway, to the point, i see mr herman and say what's up to him. he obviously regards me with no recognition whatsoever even though i had only quit a few weeks before and i saw him 2-4 times a week before that. i guess that can be attributed to the crack or that i was just another white boy, whatever.
so the worst part, and the relevance to this story, is that as i was talking to him, i noticed he had a slightly dried trail of blood running from his nostril to his upper lip. he was obviously oblivious to this fact.
so since it was partially dried, this means he had been walking around with it for 10-15 minutes at least.
imagine how many dishes he handled in the time from when his nose started to bleed, to when he realized it (which could have been 2 weeks later fro all i know). "hi ladies and gentlemen, our special tonight is a delicious creole with a side of old man crackhead blood"
mmmmm, mmmm! eat up!  2/3/2008 2:55:35 AM
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