Indian mom: Eat your chicken.
Drunk Irishman: Ach, what nice bebbies. I have a child too.
Indian mom: That’s nice.
Drunk Irishman: Just the one, though. The doctor told me wife, that’s it. No more chidren for you.
Indian mom: I see.
Little girl: Grandma, who is that man?
Indian mom: I’m your mother, not your grandmother.
Drunk Irishman: Her boss made her lift a 500 pound piano all by her self. A tiny woman! A 500 pound piano!
Indian mom: I see.
Drunk Irishman: So no more children. And me one of nine, you know. Including the one deadborn one.

–Wendy’s, Astoria

Overheard by: Loretta P.