It’s like 6:00 and Kirill’s belly is still a Risotto-free zone.
Kirill: I’m SO HUNGRY
Me: You should’ve had a burger with me
Kirill: BUT I DON’T LIKE LUNCH
Me: Suffer for your insolence.
Kirill, looking at a new restaurant: What’s this place?
Me: Loud and obnoxious. Let’s go.
Kirill: But… I think I could maybe go for some pub food.
Me, growing progressively more apathetic: Ok let’s go
So we go down, and in this Irish pub, everyone had an Irish accent. It’s real nice. An Irish pub is not where you go to eat Risotto, but they had Shepherd’s Pie on the menu, so he got that.
Kirill, tearing up: This Shepherd’s Pie is so good.
Me: Awesome, I’m glad we finally foun-
Kirill, handing me a spoon: No, no, here. Take some.
Me, taking a bite: Yeah this is pretty yummy.
Kirill: This… this is the best Shepherd’s Pie I’ve ever had. Server! Server.
Server: What can I do for you?
Kirill, practically weeping: Thank you for this. Thank you.
Server: You’re… welcome.
Server leaves, and Kirill waves down the next staff person who walks by.
Kirill: THANK YOU SO MUCH
Me: Yikes, take it down a notch
Kirill: I NEEDED THIS
Kirill: I’m so grateful.
Kirill: I need to thank each one of them.
Kirill: Hey you! Thank you for-
Me: That’s the dishwasher.
I’m glad Kirill was happy in the end, but we never got our Risotto. That’s probably the best ending for me, anyway.
I don’t even really like Risotto.