Dinner at Charlie's

When I’m done dumping you, I’m going to get trashed on mimosas made from real champagne and a bucket of your tears. That’s what you get for never listening to me.

Yes, Miranda, we’re at Charlie’s Kitchen tonight. Yes, Miranda, I made reservations to your stupid favourite restaurant, even though I hate this overpriced garbage trough. It’s pretentious. I even looked that word up to make sure it’s the right word, and it is! Pretentious!

What’s that, Miranda? You want to know what the occasion is?

“It’s a surprise.”

Bitch.

Tonight is the night of my emancipation! Tonight is the last time I’ll have to listen to your shrill nagging. Tonight – oh my god! Are those new shoes!? Did you buy another new pair of shoes? Didn’t you just ride my ass for when I wanted to buy a GoPro because ‘Blah-blah-blah you gotta cover your half of the rent!’

Jesus! It’s not a toy, Miranda! It could be my new career! I’d just need to buy one of those drones too, but that’s what Payday loans are for. I’m sure they’d spot me another one. And anyway, it’s not like you can’t afford to cover the rent, you greedy witch.

Oh, waiter’s here. That’s actually pretty fast service, for a crap hill like this place.

“Yes, hello. We’d like your most expensive bottle of Domper Gonan. Yes, Dom Perignon, that’s what I said. Relax, Miranda, it’s okay. Tonight’s a special occasion.”

Oh yes it is. I’m going to dump your soggy ass, and I’m going to do it in your stupid favourite trash hole and ruin this rancid restaurant for you. And I’m going to leave you with the bill, you plastic vampire.

“So, Miranda–”

Oh my god! Did you seriously just shush me? With those nasty mile-long hooker nails of yours? Why do you even have nails like that? Are you hookering on the side? I bet you are. Every time I turn my head you turn a trick. You don’t even know the meaning of the word loyalty. Man, I can’t wait to dump you and shatter your frozen onion heart.

Why are you rifling around in that moldy bucket you call a purse? Oh, great. You’re digging your phone out. This is unbelievable. What kind of sociopath buries their face in their stupid phone while on a date? This is why I’m dumping you, Miranda! I can’t believe the disrespect–

Hold on, I’m getting a text. Oh, it’s Alice.

ya boo ill cu 2nite :)

God she’s hot. Can’t wait to dump Miranda and get out of here.

Oh, what now? Why are you crying, Miranda? Did one of your stupid idiot friends call you to tell you one of your stupid idiot celebrities got voted off the stupid idiot island ‘cause they can’t stupid idiot sing? Boo-friggin’-cry me a river. Well, that’s all right. I like this. Make a scene, Miranda. Make it rain! I want everyone here to see what a train wreck you are.

Hmm, Waiter’s back. Yeah, and of course you’re going to ignore him, aren’t you, Miranda? Well, don’t sweat. I got it.

“No, wait, we’re ready to order. Yes, I’m sure. No, don’t worry about her; look at me. We’ll both have the crab legs and steak. Well done. Like, black. Uh… the 20oz steak. Extra gravy. Can we get cheese sauce on the side? You don’t have a cheese sauce? Well can we just have cheese on the side? Fine, extra garlic butter then. Double–triple it. Yes, fries, who cares! Oh? Sure, cheese curds on the fries then. Thanks!”

Idiot.

Still blubbering, Miranda? Got some bad news, did ya? Not as bad as I’m going to give you in a moment. But first, that’s right: steak and crab, you vegan circus. You’re going to hate it – see, I do listen to you. I hope the animals suffered as much as I suffered ever since I moved into your smelly apartment. And you know just as well as I do that the smell was there before I moved in! Don’t deny it. I can’t wait to move in with Alice. She doesn’t shout, she’s got a giant TV, and she eats food like a human. Celiac’s a made up disease and you know it, Miranda! I’m going to OD on bread tonight.

Man, just look at all those tears, freshly squeezed from the crocodile. What? What are you trying to say, Miranda? Oh, it’s your wretched mother, is it? And she’s calling to tell you your uncle Maurice died? Really, Miranda? Another uncle died? That’s what, like, three this year? If you don’t want to go to work just don’t go, no need to keep inventing dead relatives and fake funerals. It’s not like we don’t all know you’re lazy, making me get a job.

Alice isn’t lazy. She works three jobs. She’s a go-getter and she can support us both.

“Aww. There, there. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I bet he died because you’re terrible. You probably shouted at him on his birthday, just because he wanted a well-deserved boys’ night out, and anyway Miranda, it wasn’t a strip club, it was a gentleman’s club! Everyone was wearing top hats! It was very classy and you’d know that if you ever let me have fun!

Holy balls, how long is this phone call? Your mother sure does yap. I see where you get it from. No wonder the men in your family keep dying. And how come I’ve never heard of this uncle Maurice? You just keep pulling random estranged relatives out of your butt whenever you feel like it.

Wait, why are you so surprised now? What did she say? And why did you stop crying? Ah, well, no matter. This is better. Take a break, grab a breather, because you’re about to reap the tornado. It’s almost game time, baby, and the horses are chomping at the writing on the wall. We are going to make such a scene that you’ll never forget this night, and when you come crawling back to me I’m just going to make you beg and then still tell you no, just like every time I wanted some nookie and you said, ‘No, I just don’t feel good because of the chemo.’

Pfft. You’re about to really not feel good.

What the hell? Did you just smile? Oh, that’s real nice, Miranda. Your fake uncle Maurice dies, and you’re giggling. The apple doesn’t fall far from your pit bull mother. Yes, cover your mouth, hide your shame. What kind of a person revels in someone else’s misery? Disgusting.

“Is everything all right?”

Yeah, uncle Maurice. Yeah, died. I already know that part, hurry it up. Yeah, you didn’t even know you had an uncle Maurice – yeah, we all know that, Miranda. It’s because he’s fake. Because your human goiter of a mother made him up because she’s old and nasty and just wants attention. Keep it moving. Oh really? He was an industrialist of some renown, you say? Holy crap, Miranda. You sure do invent some stupid backstories for your stupid fake relatives. You should write for the internet. Oh, uh-huh, and he named you in his will, did he?

Wait.

“He named you in his will?”

A wealthy industrialist of some renown? Wait, how much?

“Five million!?”

Holy nuts! We’re rich! After all my hard work, I’ve finally made it!

Wait, why are you making that face now? Oh, right. The steak and crab that the waiter just put down in front of you.

“I can explain–”

Stop yelling at me. I can’t explain if you keep interrupting me! Did you just call your plate a charnel house? I don’t even know what that is, and I’m pretty sure neither do you. No, I know you’re a vegan, that was the point.

“I do listen to you–”

Wait, why did you get up? Why are you frowning?

“What do you mean we should see other people? After all I’ve done for you?”

Where are you going, Miranda?

“But I love you! Let’s get married!”

Come back! Oh, now this stupid mouth breathing waiter’s in my way, with his stupid mouth breathing waiter buddies. What do they want?

Right, the bill. Jesus, it’s how much!?

“Miranda!”