Guarding my false reputation

There is a very cheap restaurant around Biryogo where all the poor guys have their meals. Even moto chaps go there but only when they are broke to the bone. Doesn’t that tell you just how bad the place is doing? Some of the tables are half broken with cracks so big that someone can fit in between the two parts. The waitresses are very cute I must say but that is not why I went there. My wallet ordered me to go there and so I went. I entered and after getting comfortable, I saw some very cute chick that I have bumped into often and I wanted to hide my face in shame. With the ‘swaggerific’ style that I had adopted (bouncing and looking all fly) I couldn’t let this small restaurant be the death of me. The good thing is that the chick looked like she was in a hurry. Because I would rather die than let her see me in such a place, I called a waitress and made sure she covered me fully. I then started asking her questions just to buy enough time for the other babe to walk out without seeing me. Do you have chicken? Is it well cooked? How about your drumsticks? Are they deep fried? “Yesss,” the waitress replied in a very irritated tone. “Okay, bring me a chapatti,” I finally said after watching in relief as the girl left. The waitress jeered at me as she walked away to bring my order. I guess out of anger she decided to punish me. It took her 15 minutes to bring a soda. For a moment I thought they also had to cook it. She then brought the hardest chapatti and the soda was as hot as tea. After asking about chicken I had no intentions of buying, I can’t blame her. So I sat and ate my cold chapatti and hot soda in silence as the temptation of running out without paying kept creeping in my mind.