Once upon a time in a diner

Toast, toasted
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Daily Prompt: Are you being served?

My sister Marge and I were in the booth in the diner, sitting opposite my father. My father ordered a Reuben sandwich, “lightly toasted.”

The waitress returned minutes later to serve my father a burnt toast sandwich.

“What is this?!” my father yelled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t make it,” the waitress answered.

“How can you serve this crap?! What is wrong with you?” He picked up half the sandwich, and flung it across the booth.

At about this time, my sister and I slid out of the diner booth, and hurried to the ladies’ room to hide. Unfortunately, we could still hear the yelling from inside the ladies’ room. We looked at each other, wide-eyed, shrugged our shoulders, and waited for the commotion to die down.

“I’m sorry,” the waitress continued. “The cook made it this way.”

“I don’t  &*^$% know *&^% what is &*(_# wrong with you people. Who wants to eat burnt toast?!”

“Ok, I’ll take it back.” She grabbed the plate, with the half remaining sandwich and scurried back to the kitchen.

We waited until the last whispers of the other diners had stopped, and started the long journey back to our booth, pretending that no one was watching us. Nothing to see here, folks. Return to your lives, citizens.

A new sandwich miraculously appeared minutes later. It looked fine; but as the saying goes, you really don’t want to piss off the people who prepare your food….


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