The Restaurant Reviewer

The middle class idea of theft-- where we eat at semi-fancy restaurants seated at faux leather interior deep seated dimly lit coves dine in a sarcophagus of tasty mildew. A youth lends their smile teeth faintly shine through, but roughly cut short of sincere; on their lapel in fine print the label says Sandy. Flexing water spotted plastic black brim borders and articulated names of food that would put all of Italy to shame. Porcelain plates hold lofty portions of what is purely compensation as texture and flavor remind me of my adolescence this is when Playdoh and Crayons are used for flavoring. A slate for my signature is provided and the upside to this all was the perfection of a pen they lent me it was ball tip and bright pink-- finally something I'd be glad to take home with me.

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Penguin

32 / American

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