Shmalchtach the Screamer had strandy wild hair. He was pissed and he screamed and knocked over the table and pulled his pants down in the nice restaurant and his underwear down too and started peeing on his meal in the restaurant. The waiters ran out. Shmalchtach lifted an old lady's blouse and wiggled her breasts.
Schmalchtach took a handful of the fancy creamed thick mashed potatoes and pureed cauliflower off the plate of an old man across from the lady and mooshed 'em in his mouth.
"Vah-vah-vah-vah!!" he said right in the stupid old man's fuckin' face.
"Lehhhhhh!" Shmalchtach continued, as he wiggled his tongue through the mashed potatoes and cauliflower, while particles of them flung from his mouth and clung to the plates and tablecloth beneath his face.
Then Schmalchtach turned around and "Fluhhhch!!", spitblew the remaining mashed potatoes out of his mouth onto a handsome man with a nice suit's face and suit.
The waiter and management rushed over to Schmalchtach, whose pants were still around his ankles.
"Sir, what is the problem?!" said the management.
"ARAAGHH!! GAH! BRAGHH!!! REEEEE!!" Shmalchtach said, pointing a finger up, enraged.
"Was the food not to your satisfaction?" asked the chef.
Schmalchtach sat on the floor and began the scrape his bottom on the carpet.
Then Schmalchtach's son Jared walked in. The lights dimmed and a spotlight pointed at him.
"Dad!" shouted Jared.
Schmalchtach looked up from his scooting on the carpet. "Raahhh!!?" he said.
"Dad, I know you're angry. I'm angry too. We've all been angry since your favorite bar of soap ran out of itself."
"Mehhhh!" said Schmalchtach, who was very stinky.
"But you have the money to buy more soap!"
"Gruhh!" said Schmalchtach.
"I know it's not the same."
"Sir would you like a new 'hair salad'? We are very sorry the other was not satisfactory." said the management.
Schmalchtach had ordered a special salad with lots of human hair in it. The restaurant made it for Schmalchtach. No one knew what exactly was bothering Schmalchtach. Was it the soap? The salad? His son? He didn't share.
But Schmalchtach was very rich, if you didn't guess. People always compared Schmalchtach to Howard Hughes but there were many differences. Schmalchtach was a socialite, and a schmoozer. He didn't save his urine, he gave it away as a present. He didn't wash obsessively, he washed only when he fell in love with a bar of soap.
He owned this particular restaurant he was screaming in. The patrons of it that night wanted to be seen on the rich person scene so they pretended the spectacle wasn't a problem. In fact they were new to being fancy and rich, and thought it to be the most erudite behavior. So they all began rubbing their rectums on the carpets, flinging mashed potatoes, guzzling urine, and cramming extra virgin olive oil filet mignon aioli in their vaginas. Then they poured gallons of sparkling water everywhere just to waste it. A busboy working his way through college came out and with a hot crock and boiled his hand. Everyone applauded. And that set the bar for how billionaires who want to be liked by other billionaires behave in private. So if you can make a bunch of money you get to join in on their fun. It is truly a wonderful group of people to be accepted by.