Slurp!

Slurp?

Slurp!?

Slurp was a sound never before heard at Le Grande de Snotty. Le Grande de Snotty was so haughty that it not only didn’t put the prices on the menu, it didn’t have a menu. You got what they gave you and you liked it. Slurping soup was definitely not something it’s clientele would do. Definitely not.

“Sir, your young grandson is slurping”, the waiter told the very rich h man at table 1.

The man, richer then God, gave his grandson a you’re-out-of-the-will look. The grandson didn’t know what a will was, didn’t know he was in it and didn’t care. What he did know was he had a bowl of soup to finish slurping.

The man, very embarrassed, mortified and ashamed, glanced at his only son with a what kind of child are you raising and you’re out of the will look. Scared the hell out of the son. Being his father’s son was the only skill he had. He didn’t know of anyone looking for a replacement son.

“Son”, the son said, “don’t slurp your soup”

Slurp!

Four year-olds don’t have good hearing or listening skills regardless of how rich Grandfather was or how scared father was.

Slurp!

“Sir, I must ask that you control the slurping of this young master. The other diners are becoming upset”, the waiter told the richer-than-God man.

“Son, I’d advise you to take control of this youngster. If you are unable control a four year-old, you won’t be able to control my finances”, the elder rich man said.

“Son, please stop slurping your soup. Please? Do it for daddy”, the son begged.

Slurp!!

The young rich kid now had a challenge recognized by every parent of a four year-old. Four year-olds don’t do anything for daddy. Four year-olds don’t do anything for mommy. Four year-olds only do something if there’s something in it for them. So far, this four year-old hadn’t heard an offer.

“Son, stop slurping your soup and I’ll buy you a pony”, the son told his son.

The rich man beamed at his son with approval. He was big on bribery. It really cut through a lot of red tape and nonsense.

The for year-old considered the offer. A pony. A pony. No, hold out for a thoroughbred race horse.

Slurp!

“Sir, I really must inform you that this slurping must desist at once. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask that your part leave the premises”, the waiter informed the rich man. The man gave his son a this better not happen look.

“Son, if you stop slurping your soup, I’ll buy you two ponies”, the son said in desperation.

Slu-

Two ponies? Is two ponies better than one racehorse? At age four, he didn’t know. If it was, it was worth not slurping. If it wasn’t, he was getting rooked. How to decide? He didn’t have any life experience to make a decision like this. He looked into his bowl. It was empty. No more soup to slurp. Well, what a deal!

“Okay, daddy.”