"Girl Night"

It was good sitting in a diner

with the companionship of old

feminine friendships. Three

increasing years of –

fifteen, sixteen, seventeen –

laughing and stories from all

our years together.

Forty-eight years between us

all, the waitress isn't

quite sure what to

make of us. But, then

again, we don't really know

what to make of her

either. She's the over-friendly

type. Laughing and trying to

make jokes with us. Verging on

almost creepy. The type,

when asked to see the dessert

menu, will rattle off every

dessert present in the restaurant.

From Memory.

Either way she got a

four dollar tip from

the over-priced bill.

Forty-six bucks for a diner

dinner of three people,

and you can't even get a

free refill of your diet

Coke! They don't even

have a Suggestion Box.

What form of Satan Spawn

would create such an

atmosphere? The same that

would throw in a couple

of fish tanks with some tiny

shark-type things and dub

his place, "The Neptune."

Hahaha… clever. That was

probably a witty drunken

moment of his right after

he proclaimed, "And no free

refills or a Suggestion Box

for the patrons to bitch about it!"