Buddy Guy

“In Germany we were at a restaurant where he wanted to order a steak. None of us knew no German, and the waiter didn’t know English. “B-b-b-bring me a s-s-s-s-s-steak and sp-sp-sp-sp-spaghetti,” John Lee said. Waiter looked puzzled. John Lee started making motions with his hands to look a crawling snake. “N-n-n-n-n-n-noodles,” he said. “Y-y-y-y-you know—spaghetti.” Waiter ran to the kitchen and came back with some noodles. John Lee smiled. “O-o-o-o-o-okay, now cook me a s-s-s-s-s-s-steak.” Waiter ran back and forth from the kitchen carrying different stuff—a hot dog, a chicken, a piece of fish—but no steak. “G-g-g-g-g-g-goddamnit,” said John Lee. “I want m-m-m-m-m-me a steak!” Waiter just shrugged. John Lee snapped his fingers like he got an idea. “Okay, m-m-m-m-m-motherfucker,” he said, “h-h-h-h-h-here’s what I w-w-w-w-w-w-w-want.” John Lee started motioning his fists like he was milking a cow. Waiter still didn’t get it. That’s when John Lee took in a deep breath and came out this ear-shattering “M-m-m-m-m-m-m-mooooooooooooooooooo!” Waiter smiled and John Lee got himself his steak. After”
― Buddy Guy, When I Left Home: My Story