Well, it turns out that Gary Payton when he was still with the Seattle SuperSonics came into town to play the Chicago Bulls. Now he was in her section acting rude and saying insulting things, she said. I have good common sense and am known for my ability for handling difficult people in touchy situations. I said, “Shaun, you go back out there and demand an apology.” Two minutes later she comes back crying even harder. She tried, but it simply didn’t work. She didn’t have the nerve to pull it off, the ego strength. Disgusted, I stepped away from my chores and said, “I’m going to just have to take care of this myself.” And man, did I ever. Here’s what happened: I marched out into the restaurant and confronted the high-scoring but often troublesome point guard mano a mano. I told Payton that just because he was a celebrity he had no right to act rude to any person be they big or small. I patiently and firmly reminded him that he was a role model for a lot of children and that it wasn’t right for him to come into a public establishment and start in with his vulgar trash talking. And he soon saw the error of his ways. By the time I was finished his head hung low in shame and tears were forming in the corners of his eyes. I thought maybe I went too far and because I didn’t want him to break out sobbing in the establishment, I demanded that he and his party leave immediately, which they did, chastened to the max! Needless to say, everyone was super impressed. Shaundra later changed the story of this incident to where she was no mere waitress but the hostess. And I wasn’t the chef but the dishwasher and Gary Payton wasn’t really Gary Payton but just some “tall black guy emaciated from crack cocaine and AIDS.” I mean I can tell a big-ass motherfucking lie like anyone, but my version of the story is what really happened. I was benching 380 in those days. Well, fuck her and the horse she rode in on—and she was a horse! Shaundra’s ankles were always too strong and her legs were only passable in high heels and sheer stockings. You can sure get sick of a chick coming at you with legs like a Clydesdale. Having her home in on you like a linebacker, bearing down hard—not pleasant.