One for the Razorbacks
Part 3:
Chapter 3
After ‘window shopping’ (if that’s what you want to call it), we went over to Big Frankie’s Diner. The owner, Frankie, lets all of his ‘kids’ (meaning the kids that live on the streets that he looks out for) eat for free, just as long as we stay7 out of trouble with the cops or have sex in the stockroom.
We walked through the front door, making the bell at the frame jingle. I heard a rustle of pans and saw the oversized parrot named ‘Pete’, come fluttering up to me, squeaking “Razor! Razor! Razor!”
Frankie peeked out from behind the kitchen window. “Hey, Razor, how’s it goin’?”
I waved. “It’s going.” I sat down where Sam and I always sit.
“The usuals?” we heard him yell at us.
“Yeah!” we yelled back.
A few minutes later, Frankie brought out two plates, one with a big stack of pancakes and the other with a huge mound of scrambled eggs. He sat them in front of us, and walked back to the kitchen. Everyday, he would always get who ordered what mixed up. I always ended up with Sam’s pancakes, and she ended up with my eggs, so every time we’d wait until he walked away to trade plates.
Sam handed me my eggs and I handed her enormous stack of pancakes. I reached over and put it all over my eggs, but not without hearing an occasional “Ewww.” From Sam.
After ‘window shopping’ (if that’s what you want to call it), we went over to Big Frankie’s Diner. The owner, Frankie, lets all of his ‘kids’ (meaning the kids that live on the streets that he looks out for) eat for free, just as long as we stay7 out of trouble with the cops or have sex in the stockroom.
We walked through the front door, making the bell at the frame jingle. I heard a rustle of pans and saw the oversized parrot named ‘Pete’, come fluttering up to me, squeaking “Razor! Razor! Razor!”
Frankie peeked out from behind the kitchen window. “Hey, Razor, how’s it goin’?”
I waved. “It’s going.” I sat down where Sam and I always sit.
“The usuals?” we heard him yell at us.
“Yeah!” we yelled back.
A few minutes later, Frankie brought out two plates, one with a big stack of pancakes and the other with a huge mound of scrambled eggs. He sat them in front of us, and walked back to the kitchen. Everyday, he would always get who ordered what mixed up. I always ended up with Sam’s pancakes, and she ended up with my eggs, so every time we’d wait until he walked away to trade plates.
Sam handed me my eggs and I handed her enormous stack of pancakes. I reached over and put it all over my eggs, but not without hearing an occasional “Ewww.” From Sam.