The waitress scowled just as well as she was breathing. When I asked how she was doing she told me that she was menstruating. She hated her job. She hated her boss. She hated the customers. Most of all, she hated her life. I asked her for todays special and, in between her hissing, she informed me that it was tomato pancakes.
"Yes, please." I couldn't say it fast enough.
As a traveling dildo salesman I have long enjoyed the taste of food cooked with skill or heart. The best diner food is cooked with venom. Most people don't know that. I am not most people though. I found it impossible to contain my delight as the pancakes bled from my plate. Having asked for extra napkins, I suited up for the occasion. They were not just good. They were fucking good. In fact, they very well might have been the best pancakes ever served, by my now smiling waitress, in a diner.
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