Chapter Two
"Hi, I'm Marilyn and I'll be your waitress today," None of us in the history of waitresses and waiters really care who you are though. Or even the cooks. You're just a table number. "You ready to order? Or do you need some more time?" The two kids who are screaming and climbing all over and under the table would like some Ritalin. Mom who looks like she just wants to cry as she's trying to get her kids to calm down, would like a bottle of vodka and some anti-depressants. Dad, who deep down wishes he never got married would like to be living the Garth Brooks song playing over the sound system. I'll get him tow pina coladas. One for each hand.
In the best 'My life is great' voice mom answers, "We need a few minutes."
"Can I start you out with some drinks?" Just keep smiling, just keep smiling.
Dad lists off everything his family is going to be having to drink:
Sweet Iced Tea- Mom
Coffee- Dad
(kids) lemon aid- kid in ugly shirt
(kids) sprite- the other kid
(Table #3)
I write it all down as quickly as he says it, and walk away. If everyone just ordered fountain drinks it would be easier for everyone. All I would have to do is go to the fountain behind the register, and fill up the glasses. But no, I have to go to the fridge in the back. Then when I deliver their drinks they act like it took forever. Good lord. I fill up the kiddie cup with Sprite and go on a goose chase for everything else. There's still three other tables waiting for me.
As I was giving table #3 their drinks and taking their order my favorite table walked in. Joe Franke. I quickly hung the piece of paper up for the cooks and went over to table #8.
"Hey Handsome," I sat down across from the old man. His wrinkled face wrinkled even more as he smiled at me.
"How are you today Ms Hunter?" He asked me.
"Better than you if you keep eating here five nights a week, Joe," I was honest. He came in to eat every night I worked; Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Then lunch on Fridays.
"I was a baseball player, I'm in great condition. Give me the Texas Red Chili to start with. Then for dinner, surprise me with whatever steak you want to feed me. To wash it all down I would like some sweet tea." He ordered.
"I don't know who I feel more sorry for. Your body or your toilet," I really do feel sorry for both of them. He's 67 and has lived in the same house since he was 18, that's the same toilet for 49 years. Joe just laughs. He always laughs at my remarks and calls me a wise-ass. A lot like my dad, that's why I like him so much.
Texas Red Chili
Road Kill Steak
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
Cuts, Kisses, and Cigarettes
Teen FictionMarilyn Hunter likes to hurt. She likes to drink. She likes to smoke. And sometimes she likes her cat Zoey. Marilyn hates everything and everybody to do with everything. As a career, she's a waitress at Texas Road House and lives in a trailer...