King of the Fleetwood

For dinner, Mommy and Daddy took me to the Uncle Aaron's bar/restaurant, The Fleetwood. He was there, and was so proud of me that he took me around and introduced me to everyone in the bar. That means I met the chef, the sous chef, the bartenders, the wait staff, the regulars, the football fans, the hotties wearing skin-tight jeans, their underwhelming boyfriends in their idiot attire, the ticket scalpers, the firemen, the bouncers and the cougars waiting for their young prey to walk in.

I was too young for them (but barely).

And even when I stopped being paraded around, random people would come up to me and tell me what a nice boy I was. How good looking I am. And they would do baby talk to me. Sometimes, if they seemed nice enough, Mommy and Daddy would let them hold me.

I think I can get used to this bar scene.

But, at least once every half hour, Uncle Aaron would pick me up and show me off again. It made me proud of him that he was so proud of me. I couldn’t have felt any more love.

And, at the end of the night, the two chefs dedicated their karaoke song to me. Of course, it was the worst version of “Bohemian Rhapsody” ever, but to me, it was the best.

Bismillah!