The World is My Toaster
Last Thursday was girls night out, so Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot, Shirley and me buzz over to the all-you-can-eat-buffet down to the Hukilau Polynesian Restaurant, out on the edge of town. Were we ever psyched!
‘Course, I’m maintaining now on Weight Watchers, so I can’t exactly go hog wild. But I’d saved all my extra points for a splurge. I had 49 of my weekly’s left, plus the remaining 12 for the day. If I get crazy, I’m thinking, I’ll just hop on my bike, and ride like the dickens every day ‘til my next weigh in!
So, we had our usual: a couple of pu pu platters, egg rolls, fried rice, low mien, some kind of meat on sticks (we didn't ask any questions). The girls split a couple of Scorpion bowls. I didn’t want to waste points on booze, so I was the DD (designated driver). I just had a wine spritzer.
Now, have you ever had one of them Scorpion Bowls? It’s this ginormous drink, comes in a big, honkin’ bowl with fire floating in the middle, little paper umbrellas all ‘round. I still have no idea what's in it, but, Jeesum Crow, it packs a punch!
Since the last time we’d been there, the owners had been busy putting signs up everywhere: when you come in, by the register, in the dining room, over the sink in the bathroom, in the stalls, everywhere. “Scorpion Bowls are not souvenirs. Any one caught talking one will be prosecuted.” Clearly the Hukilau was havin’ a problem.
We made short work of the pu pu platters and were just about finished grazing the buffet, when Betty asks, “So how many Scorpion Bowls do you have to drink before you start thinkin’ about takin’ one home?”
“Beats me,” replies Dottie, “but we’re on our way to finding out!”
Always the practical one, Shirley chimes in, “OK, say you wanted to take one. How would you smuggle it out?”
“Geesh,” I says. “You’d need a pretty big purse.”
Betty adds, “Well, you could pretend you were pregnant. Though it’s not really the right shape, is it?”
“Yeah,” I says, “you’d have to hold it, like the baby was on it’s way. It’d be tricky.”
Celeste goes, “Still, some folks must have figured it out. I mean, by the number of signs, the Hukilau is clearly havin’ an epidemic.”
Rita pipes up, “You gotta admit, though, havin’ your own Scorpion Bowl at home would be kind of special, you know? Kind of like a trophy. You’d feel like, wow, ‘the world is my toaster.’”
We all stop, and look at her. Rita back-pedals. “What are you looking at? I’m not saying I’d take it!”
Shirley explains. “Rita, it’s not ‘toaster.’ It’s ‘oyster. The world is your oyster.’”
Rita makes a face. “Oyster? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you want the world to be your oyster? They’re all gooey and slimy.”
“Right,” Dottie agrees. “Like someone just hocked up a big….”
“Hey!” Shirley shouts. “I’m still eating, here!”
Rita looks positively flabbergasted. “Geesh, my whole life I thought it was, ‘The world is your toaster.’”
Betty says, “Sound more appealin’, doesn’t it? A toaster takes something cold and makes it hot.”
“Nelson does the same thing to me,” adds Celeste, nodding over at the bartender, and we all burst out laughing. Nelson smiles in our direction and we wave.
Shirley goes, “I’m thinkin’ about tryin’ to steal the Scorpion Bowl. See if he’ll frisk me!”
Nelson comes over to our table. “You ladies are havin’ too much fun.! Can I get you another round?”
“You kidding?” Betty says. “We’re halfway under the table as it is.”
God, we have a good time. We were still giggling when we climb into the car, each sportin’ a little umbrella in our hair.
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!