Misfortune Cookie

Story Sent in by Brad:

I found Isabelle's profile online and wrote to her. We spoke for a little over a week before I asked her out to dinner.

I took her to a Chinese place that I really liked. When we sat down, she said, "I was here with my family once when I was around seven. My father got into some sort of an argument with the owner and we never came back, but I tend to doubt that anyone else would remember that anymore."

We ordered drinks and appetizers. The instant she bit into her scallion pancake, I could tell that something was wrong. I asked her, "What is it?"

She guzzled down almost her entire water and said, "It tastes like someone urinated all over these," and she offered me one to try. I sniffed it. It smelled like a scallion pancake. I took a nibble. It tasted fine. I took a bite. I'm not sure what urine tastes like (or how Isabelle knew) but the appetizer tasted like how I imagined it should.

I had ordered an egg roll, and had already tried some, but I offered part of it to her. She cut off a piece and ate it, then spat it out into her napkin. "Holy God," she said, "It's like someone peed all over that, too."

I ate more of my egg roll. It tasted great, and not at all like anything that goes in a toilet, as far as I'd guess. I said to her, "If you don't like it, send it back."

She replied, "Just as long as the main course isn't like that, I'll be all right."

The main courses arrived. She had ordered Buddha's delight and I had ordered chicken lo mein. She took one big bite of her meal, then spat it out all over the table, narrowly missing me. She pushed the plate away from herself. "I'm sorry. This tastes like pee."

Her expectoration had attracted the attention of our waiter, who came over and asked if everything was all right.

"No," Isabelle answered, pushing the plate away from herself, "This tastes like piss."

The waiter took the plate away at once and said, "I'm very sorry. Can we make you up something different?"

Isabelle stood up and said, "Guess you assholes still carry a grudge." She turned to me and said, "I'll be in touch, okay?" and left the restaurant without a backward glance. I didn't go after her. Instead, I asked the waiter to box up her food for me, which I later ate. It was delicious.

She called me up a day or two later. I didn't pick up and she didn't leave a message. I didn't call her back.

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