Dining Out Ain't the Same Anymore. An Epicure Set of Light Verse.

"As restaurants in some states fire up again, proprietors wonder if the rich dining landscape will ever be the same."
Headline in today's Washington Post

I found a fly upon my soup;

I called my waiter nincompoop.

But he replied "We sterilize

our food 'gainst germs and even flies!"

And so I slurped it down full tilt,

and thought it smacked a bit of silt.

But that's because I did let slip

the fact my mask was on my lip.

I sat alone, no one was near;

the waiter my cries did not hear --

I waited long, and growing wroth,

I nibbled on the tablecloth.

White plastic was my silverware;

to carve a steak I wouldn't dare.

And so I ordered al a carte;

the fry sauce I thought rather tart.

And then my waiter disappeared.

He took his temp, and greatly feared

the Health Department would demand

his banishment to Swaziland.

At last the manager came by.

I paid in cash, but he did cry:

"Your filthy lucre has been barred;

We only take the plastic card!"

Well,I had had about enough

and so I said "Your meat is tough!

"Your salad bar would surely fail

to interest any cottontail.

Your fish is off, your pastries glue;

and so I'll not be paying you!"

He gnashed his teeth, I gnashed right back,

displaying lots of dental plaque.

He took my wristwatch with a snap.

(The laugh's on him -- it's Timex crap.)

Post-virus dining out sure blows;

next time I'll order Dominoes.