Why Matt Gaetz always seem to wear a shit eating grin.

Why Matt Gaetz always seem to wear a shit eating grin.

When U.S. Representative for Florida's 1st congressional district, Matt Gaetz walked into the new diner in Okaloosa County, Florida, he felt immediately at ease.  It was the kind of diner he loved eating in.  Gleaming formica tables, white heavyset waitresses hustling to and fro.  Through the pass window between the kitchen and the diner he could see the black and latino cooks working away.  Matt Gaetz smiled at the people he was representing.  A woman with crocidile skin stepped up to Matt holding a menu, “would you care for a table or would you like to sit at the counter, sir?” she asked.  Matt smiled his most charming of smiles and said, “why I do think I prefers to sit at the counter this lovely morning, darlin.”

The woman escorted Matt to the counter and layed the menu out infront of one of the empty stools.  There were working men in overalls and truck drivers in flannel filling up all the other stools at the counter.  When Matt sat down he smiled his charming smile at them all.  The men looked up from their waffles and scrambled eggs and nodded back.  Matt knew that most of the men probably had no idea who he was or what he did for them.  This he did not mind.  Though this morning he was hoping to make some new “friends”.  From the otherside of the counter the waitress approached Matt, “coffee hun?” she asked.  “Oh, please do.” replied Matt, shining his pearly whites to the waitress. The waitress pour the cup of steaming black coffee there in front of him.  Matt reached for the creamer and artifical sweetener “Do you know what you want?” asked the waitress.  “Not sure what I’m going to have today,” said Matt a contemplative look glazing over his casual grin. “Got any specials?”  “We sure do honey and I highly recommend it .” said the waitress .  “Well I’ll have the special then.”  The waitress scratched his order down on a pad, scooped up the menu then walked away.  Matt heard the waitress call to through the kitchen windown, “one special extra flies.”  Matt wondered if he had heard her correctly say “extra flies or on the fly?”

Matt sat sipping at his coffee, taking in the diner.  All around him sat his type of folk.  He was proud to be representing them in the lower house of Congress.  He was one of them.  Matt fixed his tie and was just about to turn to the man in the overalls next to him when the waitress returned with his breakfast.  In front of him the waitress slid a steaming hot plate piled with eggs, bacon, sausage and a brown sauce.  The smells wafting from off the plate overwhelmed the United States Rep., the entire plate smelled rotten.  Matt looked up at the waitress who was looking down at him.  “Well enjoy!” she said.  Matt looked down at the plate and then back up at the waitress who was still watching him.  All the men at the counter in their workmens clothing were watching Matt too.  Matt smiled and took a fork full into his mouth.  Fighting back the urge to spit it all out, he swallowed it with a gulp of coffee.  The man directly to his left leaned into Matt and said, “needs some salt and pepper don’t it.”  Another man on that man’s left leaned over the counter and said “try adding some tobasco.”  Matt grabbed the salt and pepper and the tobasco and covered the plate with them.  “What’s a matter sugar, is the special not to your liking?”  Matt Gaetz smiled at the waitress and at the men sitting around him.  “Uh, no uh everything is fine,” he said.  Matt tried toe at another fork full of the food on his plate, which had now taken on a deep brown tint.  Matt noticed small white worms wiggling out from under the pile of bacon and sausage on the plate.  Matt could take it no more and began vomitting across the counter.  The men next to him countiued toe at their breakfasts as if nothing was happening.  Between reches Matt tried to ask the waitress for a glass of water but she just stood there laughing.  Mat tgrabbed a bunch of napkins from the holder on the counter and tried to wipe the vomit from his face.  But everywhere he wiped was more vomit. Suddenly there was a man standing above him in a dirty white cooks outfit.  As Matt lifted his head and the tears cleared from his eyes, he realized that the President was standing before him.  “What’s wrong Matt?” said the President, “you don’t like my cooking?”  Matt looked at the President, “what?”  “Well you see Matt, I think it is a good thing that everyone working for me knows what it is like to eat shit.  I mean we are serving it up Supersized for the country so I think those who are doing the serving need to also every once and awhile know the taste of it too.  Don’t you agree, Matt?”  Matt looked up at the President standing there in his grease stained kitchen wear and once again put his best shit eating grin across his face and said, “well sir, I guess I do.”

 “Good,” said the President.  “See you back in Washington, Matt.  Keep up the good work, son.  And don’t forget to tip your waitress.  You know these ladies don’t make shit either.”  The President strolled back into the kitchen and Matt could hear him yelling orders at the kitchen staff in Spanish.  The waitress walked over and slid the check in front of Matt. “You all done sugar or you going to finish that?” “I guess I am going to finish it,” said Matt, before he realized that he had left his wallet at home.