Despite the trauma of my first lunch last month with Herr Smiff, I decided to give him a second chance.
And I have lived to regret it.
He brought a suitcase filled with pictures that he tried to sell me. Most of them were of him dressed up as Captain Marvel and his wife dressed us as Mighty Isis and they have forever tarnished my formerly great memories of Saturday morning TV.
And of course, he regaled me with tasteless stories of his extramarital exploits, some of which even happened with humans. He then tried playing footsie with me. He explained it off by explaining, "Oh, I was just stretching my leg."
After nearly two hours of this, he tried to redeem himself by paying the tab. I protested, but he grinned knowingly at me and said "It's alright, Chris. Trust me." I felt a cold shiver go down my spine and went the path of least resistance so I could get out of there.
The only redeeming thing about the whole experience at The Barley House (again) was our waitress Michelle, an energetic young lass whose bubbly personality and knowledge of music took some of the edge of yet another traumatic lunchtime experience.
All I have to say after this second go-round is: See ya next time, Smiff!
