I was hosting a formal dinner and had invited my boss, my priest, my old college dean, my old Army captain, my old Navy captain, the CEO of Old Navy, My old football coach, my mother-in-law, the mayor of our town and the people at WordPress who decide which blogs are Freshly Pressed and I wanted things to go just right.
“Why did you organize such an event?” my wife asked. “I didn’t even know you were ever in the military or played football…”
“No time to answer that question,” I cut her off. “I have to make sure the roast doesn’t dry out.”
The evening was going well and I had decided it was time to lead everyone into the dining room.
Suddenly, a chill of fear came over me. I had forgotten to set the table.
I was going to turn around to try and stall my guests, when I glanced into the dining room and saw silverware, laid perfectly and my Pet Monkey, Chip Dip placing the final napkin.
The monkey had set the table for me.
Excited and grateful, I called my guests in after Chip Dip stepped out and served the soup.
Things were off to a fine start until my old army captain tried to take a bite of soup. The liquid slips through the prongs of his fork!
The monkey had set the forks and spoons on the wrong side of the plates.
I watched in horror as the captain placed an empty utensil into his mouth.
“What the…” he remarked.
“CHIP DIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “THE SOUP SPOON GOES ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE PLATE!”
I chased the monkey around the dining room for 45 minutes, his furry feet sloshing through everyone’s soup until he finally managed to escape through a dumbwaiter, I foolishly had installed into our home and out a second story window.
“You’re fired!” My boss yelled.
“You’re excommunicated!” yelled my priest.
“You’re dishonorably discharged!” my army captain yelled.
“I was going to say that!” the navy captain yelled, proceeding to chase the army captain around the dining room for the next 45 minutes who, unable to escape via dumbwaiter, crashed through the second story window.
Needless to say, the night ended up a disaster.
I scoured the neighborhood trying to find Chip Dip without success.
The next morning, my doorbell rang. Standing there was Chip Dip. In his hand was an envelope. I opened it and read the paper inside. The monkey had sent out apology cards to all of my guests on my behalf and asked them to allow me to make it up to them, with a dinner at a local restaurant.
“Oh, I can’t stay mad at you” I invited the monkey in, but then I Google-mapped the restaurant. It was a local strip club.
“CHIP DIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I yelled.
Sometimes I wish I had gotten a dog instead.