THROWING SHRIMP
@
SPORTSFIELD ROXXX

8501 E. Colfax Avenue
303-377-0200

My buddy Jeff and I had decided to meet for breakfast before we opened up the tattoo shop. Sportsfield Roxxx was right up the street, so it sounded like a likely candidate. Now, I've heard great minds think alike, but now I know that sick ones do too, because both Jeff and I showed up wearing the same thing. Black pants, black coats, white shirts, and dark shades. The harsh light of the 11 am sun washed around us as we stood in the parking lot, offering a kind of Tarantino-esque quality to our surroundings. Jeff caught the pulp* vibe beginning to develop and mumbled something about "needing shotguns for this kind of job." I picked up the ball and began to rant as we walked in: "Fear not my brother, for the path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequity of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and good will shepherd the weak through the valley of darkness for he is truly his brother's keeper and finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers."

By now we had made it to the center of the restaurant and all in attendance were either staring or pretending not to see us, so raising my arms upward I finished by exclaiming, in my best Samuel Jackson impersonation, "And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee." Needless to say we were seated immediately. Ordering wasn't easy-- the menu consisted of every savory type of food known to man ... Australian lobster, steak and shrimp, top sirloin, burritos, burgers, souvlaki ... it went on and on but I decided on a BLT.

"A pig is a filthy animal," Jeff said as soon as the waitress left. I didn't want to get into the whole classic dialog so I just left it. We were pretty hungry as we waited for our food and started looking around at what other people were eating. Jeff walked up to another table where a guy was eating a burger and fries. He started what would become an impromptu smorgasbord by saying, "That looks like a mighty tasty burger." The guy looked up and nodded and Jeff continued, "You mind if I try yours?" Then he grabbed it and took a bite. As he was chewing he said, "Mmmm, now that's a tasty burger. Do you mind if I have a little of that tasty beverage to wash it down with?" He drank the rest of the man's soda, smiled and walked away. I was blown away! But I couldn't let it slide so I asked a lady sitting next to me, who was eating steak and shrimp, if she would pass the Grey Poupon. As she reached for it I palmed a shrimp off of her plate and backhanded it toward Jeff. He wasn't paying attention, and in classic Dorito commercial style it bounced off of his forehead and landed on someone else's plate. Although I can't say how it tasted, it had good bounce and the person whose plate it landed in ate it without batting an eye, so it was probably pretty good.

Our food came and we dove in. My BLT was done to perfection; Jeff kept trying to start the whole 'filthy animal' thing but I was too busy eating. His souvlaki (whatever that is) was very good according to the orgasmic noises he kept making as he ate it. After the meal we were talking about the live music they have there in the evening, lots of good hard rock, like Uncle Nasty's band, then I fell silent for a while in deep thought. Jeff asked what was wrong and I replied, "You know, I was just sitting here considering the miracle of finding this place."

Jeff frowned saying, "Miracle? More like a coincidence!"

"You can't possibly think that finding a place this good, open at 11 am, with every savory dish in the known universe on the menu, could be a coincidence! You can't judge this kind of thing on merit, man, whether or not this was an according-to-Hoyle miracle or not isn't significant, what is significant is that I felt the hand of divinity! This might be it for me, man! My swan song, the end of the road!"

Jeff looked shaken. "You thinking about quitting?" he asked unbelievingly.

I looked back at him, my gaze unwavering, saying, " I don't know, man. I can't see it getting any better than this, and I don't want to spent the rest of my food career thinking about how good it used to be, ya know? I'm thinking about just walking the earth for a while, kinda like Cain from 'Kung Fu, ' meeting people, having adventures...."

My train of thought was interrupted by Jeff exclaiming, "So you're gonna be a bum!"

"I'll be Bob, no more, no less." He went on as if never hearing me. "You'll be without a job, a residence, or legal tender. They have a name for that: a bum!"

Okay, maybe it didn't happen exactly like this ... maybe not even kinda. But the facts remain the same: the food was great, the menu was unbelievable and the musical entertainment can't be beat, so go check it out! But don't rant and rave in the middle of the restaurant, hassle the customers, or eat off of other people's plates. A

*Pulp /`pulp/ n. 1. A soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter. 2. A magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough unfinished paper (i.e. this and all of my reviews).