diner talk…

you want a roll or a biscuit with that chicken dinner…,the waitress asked…hand on hip…pouring coffee with the other…

a biscuit please…,the man seated next to him smiled…sucked on his Pepsi…shook his head…,should’ve asked for the roll…,he said…,much fluffier…better…homemade…,he adjusted his glasses and hat…

is that so…fluffier huh…

yeah…that biscuit is hard as a rock…you remember the name of that race car driver…

no…I dont…

the one that died while back…number 3…

Dale Earnhardt…

he snapped his fingers…,yep…that’s the one…couldn’t remember…yeah…should’ve got the roll…

OK…I’ll get the roll…,the man turned to the waitress and asked if he could switch that…she nodded yes and pulled up her top which showed more cleavage than she should…so she thought…

you work down here…

outta my apartment…

what’dya do…

I’m a writer…

what’dya write…

short stories…poems…

I gotta story for ya…

oh yeah…

I used to make a hundred grand a year…

now…

less than ten thousand…

yep…I make less than that…

but you’re doin’ what you love…

yes…yes…

that was before my accident…messed me up in the head…I don’t think so well…

sorry…

…so…you got the roll…

yes…I got the roll…

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