Waiting For Garlic Naan

At moments of extreme suffering, of horrible injustice, the SJG turns eloquent and long-winded. Ipretend I'm in front of the Supreme Court. I let my feelings be known. Last night, I picked up the phone and delivered the kind of speech that would make Clarence Darrow proud. It went something like this:

"Have you no sense of common decency? It's been over an hour since I called in the order. One hour.  Sixty minutes of anticipation. So now, I ask you again. Where is my food? Where is it? Where did it go to? Are you testing us? Did you deliver it to another house? Is some other family eating our chicken tikka, our garlic naan, our vegetable biriyana? At this stage, I must register a formal complaint... with the Better Business Bureau. Or perhaps I'll take it one step further. Perhaps I'll write a very bad Yelp review. I'll write the kind of Yelp review that will ruin you. And so, I beseech you to deliver the order, the sooner, the better, before I do something rash. You can't treat customers this way. There are a million other restaurants in the area that would've happily delivered my food by now, delicious food we would have already digested. We'd have moved on to dessert. We'd be watching a movie. Instead, we are wasting away to nothing. My youngest son is currently curled up in a ball, weeping. My husband is banging his head against the wall, moaning. As for me, I'm filled with regret. I'm left to wonder what inspired me to call you people in the first place. Why would I risk the well-being of my family? Why?  Why? It was an impulse move. An unfortunate impulse, a mistake I promise you, as God is my witness, that I will never make again. But I saw the take-out menu in the drawer, it was calling out to me. That was the start of my downfall, my tumble into hell. Never again will I make such an egregious error in judgment. Never again will I -- oh hang on, the guy just pulled up on the driveway. Never mind."
11-9-13