Drive through pie

Last night before running to pick up a friend at the airport, I had a bite to eat then stopped for a much-craved slice of pumpkin pie at Baker's Square. Now here's a little-known fact about Baker's Square--they have a drive through for pie! Well, at least the one I go to has a drive through. It's a nice alternative to a DQ Blizzard run when my lard ass is in the mood to have fattening sweets shoveled into its gaping comestible hole. I've only done the drive by pie thing three or four times in as many years, so I don't have the broad base of customer service experiences to work with like I do with DQ, but last night was just a bit odd.

After driving up to the outdoor menu and waiting a few moments, I heard a young woman's voice crackle over the speaker box. She spoke with a slow, sultry purr. At first pass, her words were ostensibly charged with sexuality. Her simple greeting of "Welcome to Baker's Square! What can I get for you?" could just as well have been, "Welcome to Baker's Square, sugar cock! Drive up to the window and GIVE IT TO ME HARD, big boy!"

I paused for a moment, slightly taken aback by her porn star voiceover approach to greeting a customer, but I had important pie-related business to attend to and couldn't be dissuaded from my mission. "Uh, yeah. Do you have the pumpkin pie with whipped cream on it?" The speaker began oozing spermicide and gurgled to life with aural sex. "MMMM HMmmmmmmm. We have BOTH kinds of pumpkin tonight. Both with and without WHIPPED crrrrrreeeaaam." Just as I started to imagine her fingering herself behind the counter as she moaned, "crrrrrreeeaaam," things clicked. This girl wasn't being slow and sultry. She was just...well, slow. Or at least she seemed to speak in an oddly drawn out, yet syncopated fashion.

"Oh...well, I will go with the one with whipped cream then."

"Oooooh....that sounds WONDERFUL. Mmm....is there anything else I can DO for YOU?"

"Um...no, that should be good."

"Okay! PULL UP!!!!" (which despite my earlier realization, still sounded a lot like a breathily orgasmic command for me to "PULL OUT!!!!")

The situation became even more uncomfortable when I drove up to the window and was greeted by a girl who appeared to be no more than 15 or 16, braces and all. She gave me my total, I handed her a $5 bill, and she disappeared back into the kitchen. I fiddled with the radio, trying not to curiously look through the window to see what she was doing so as not to appear like a leering pervert (even though I am one). After a couple of minutes, she returned and practically thrust her head and half her torso through my window to hand me the pie-laden bag. She then repeated how much change she owed me, and sloowwwwwwllllly brushed the dollar bill against my open palm before dropping in the remaining coins. That did it. I was officially creeped out. Which didn't stop me from going home, eating the pie, then firing one off thinking about the sultry, mildly retarded underage pie girl.