This isn’t what I ordered. He said. This ain’t it at all. Jr. looks at the sunny side eggs. I ordered over-easy with pancakes and got sunnys with hashbrowns. Toast? I didn’t order toast.

Tell her they got it wrong. Mike said.

And risk the Mexicans spitting on it? No thank you. I’ll eat it.

Then don’t complain, Mike said, stirring sugar into his coffee. Too many people complain in this country.

They should complain if they didn’t get what they wanted. Jr. looks at the waitress pass by.

Everything alright? She asked.

He didn’t get what he…

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Jr. interrupted. Just fine. In fact, you could say dandy. Just dandy. The brunette shook her head and poured more coffee into cups that were half filled and walked to the next table.

They always do that, Jr. said.

What’s that?

Fill your cup when you just got it right. The exact amount of cream. The exact measurement of sugar. Jr. whispered. Mike began to laugh. You think it’s funny? Mike nodded his head. You like doing things over and over again? Mike laughed harder, crying.

Just eat your breakfast. Mike suggested. You’re really something. Paranoid of Mexican cooks. Complain yet you say nothing. Coffee? Really? Coffee? Next, you’re going to say something about the waitress.

She’s not my type.