A Drunken Sailor

I came close to committing homicide.

A guy at the restaurant table across from ours, insisted on setting up his wife's mobile phone ring tones. If he'd been scrolling through the choices that would have been merely annoying.

This character selected the electronic version of the ditty What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor, and played it over and over and over again. For five minutes.

Dee deedeedee deedeedee doo doo dee ...

He quit after receiving Darts of Death from the exasperated look I threw his way. A minute more of that nonsense and I would have pitched him through the window to the street three storeys down.

The rest of the restaurant would have applauded that move, but then I'd be writing this entry from prison. I'm kidding; I wouldn't kill someone over something that petty, as irritating as it was. It would be just as satisfying to snatch his phone out of his hand and drop it in his beer glass.

What do you do with a drunken sailor? Dunk his freaking cell phone.

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