Portrait of Christopher Walkens as an old woman, by Dominick

Christopher Walkens is an interesting specimen found at select locations of IHOP nationwide. The specific one I have encountered, labeled, and captured has a particularly fiesty temperament and a forehead that insiprses universal fear in bib-area of all of her customers. Christopher Walkens is named such due to anyone's complete-lack-of-surprise when you mention to your IHOP-mate “hey, that waitress looks exactly like Christopher Walken!”

One particular encounter with the abomination herself shines a light on the nature of this foul, androgynous, wildebeast. My IHOP-mate, Corwin, and I were pulling a few tricks out of our proverbial, ever-expanding bag and one trick came out with such force that it ripped the bag right open, spilling out the other ideas that were intertwined with it, resulting in an over-stimulating mindfuck of potential ideas. Unfortunatley, we could only save one of them while the rest were trampled by the natural, harmless, and naturally harmless wholesome patrons which populate the IHOP. This idea though, was a pretty good idea.

We decided to turn over Corwin's orange juice glass and see if the castrated Tutankhamun would oblige our free refills. She did not. When we brought this breach of normal waitress-patron conduct to her attention we were smacked with a torrent of unreleased emotions springing from her past—possibly from how her anthropomorphic father and mother never connected their dorsal fins and in their contorted sign-language and sequence of clicks-and-beeps and said “I love you” to this fetid piece of flesh. Her response was “When you turn your glass upside down, that means you don't want anymore”. As she said this me and Corwin got our straws, filled them up thusly with liquids, and spit them in her mouth. She then returned to her cave and sat upon a pointy pointy rock and repented to her many Gods her sins.


Only 60% of this is true.