Telling only-
I was sitting in a Diner somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania. It was small and cozy, the floors had a dark blue carpet, and the walls were beige color. There were lots of windows, it was a free standing building. Where there weren't windows, there were pictures. All different but same in style, mostly of the blue variety. My mother and I were sitting at a light wood table with two matching chairs. Our table had crayon wax on it, a child had obviously sat here before. We were across from each other. We had just ordered our own breakfast and were now waiting. We had been talking about college applications and what not, filling in the time until we could finally eat. The bell at the door dinged and a friendly hostess inquired on the number of people. She pulled out a menu, just one. She put him in the table behind my mother, he sat in the chair facing me. He sat there for a little bit before a waitress walked up and gave him a menu. The menus had dark blue binding and off white paper, laminated. He stared at it for just a second and then asked if they're orange juice was freshly squeezed. He went on to ask about the blueberry pancakes, the special ones. He didn't want blueberry compote in the center but he wanted the blueberries on the top. He wanted to know if the blueberries were fresh as well. The waitress was responding to his demands as best as she could, as for the freshness, she had no clue. She has a look of distress on her face. She was an old young. She had a young face, but with a few smile lines. No crows feet yet. Her hair was shoulder length, black, and pin straight. She still had a young body. She wore her white blouse buttoned up to the top and tucked in to her black pants. She had a blue apron folded over at her hips, and standard black, nonslip sneakers. The man kept yapping about what he liked and how he wanted it. Finally the waitress cut in and said she would find a manager. The man said never mind and asked for something completely different. The woman with the black hair turned on a dime and hurried away.
Dialogue Only-
"So wasn't North Carolina great? Sure wish we were still there, Pennsylvania is absolutely terrible." My mother was going on about North Carolina.
"Yeah I really loved the college." I replied.
"I really hope you get in!" She was basically screaming.
The bell at the door dinged.
"How many today sir?" asked the hostess.
"Just one" The man said.
He was seated by us. A waitress approached after a moment.
"Is your orange juice freshly squeezed?" He asked.
"Uh, I don't think so." said the waitress.
"Of course not" replied the man with a sigh after. "These pancakes, is there blueberry in the middle and on top?"
"Yes it-"
"I only want the blueberries on top, not in the middle and that gooey syrup in a cup on the side. I want bacon but not really crispy, just kind of. No black on it but I don't want to have to bite it like a bear."
"Okay anything else."
"Actually yeah, are the blueberries fresh? Or is like your orange juice? And is the bacon local farms or it processed from some other state?"
"I'm not sure, let me get a manager" She said with a bit of distress.
"Never mind, it's fine. I'll just have buttermilk pancakes with hash browns."
"Alright" Her voice turned to obvious annoyance.
"Jeez, what a piece." My mother whispered to me.
"Yeah, glad I don't work in restaurants." I whispered back.
Little Bit of Both
I was sitting in a Diner somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania. It was small and cozy, the floors had a dark blue carpet, and the walls were beige color. There were lots of windows, it was a free standing building. Where there weren't windows, there were pictures. All different but same in style, mostly of the blue variety. My mother and I were sitting at a light wood table with two matching chairs. Our table had crayon wax on it, a child had obviously sat here before. We were across from each other. We had just ordered our own breakfast and were now waiting.
"So wasn't North Carolina great? Sure wish we were still there, Pennsylvania is absolutely terrible." My mother was going on about North Carolina.
"Yeah I really loved the college." I replied.
"I really hope you get in!" She was basically screaming.
The bell at the door dinged and a friendly hostess asked "How many today sir?"
She pulled out a menu, just one. She put him in the table behind my mother, he sat in the chair facing me. He sat there for a little bit before a waitress walked up and gave him a menu. The menus had dark blue binding and off white paper, laminated. He stared at it for just a second.
"Is your orange juice freshly squeezed?" He asked.
"Uh, I don't think so." said the waitress.
"Of course not" replied the man with a sigh after. "These pancakes, is there blueberry in the middle and on top?"
"Yes it-"
"I only want the blueberries on top, not in the middle and that gooey syrup in a cup on the side. I want bacon but not really crispy, just kind of. No black on it but I don't want to have to bite it like a bear."
"Okay anything else."
"Actually yeah, are the blueberries fresh? Or is like your orange juice? And is the bacon local farms or it processed from some other state?"
The waitress was responding to his demands as best as she could, as for the freshness, she had no clue. She has a look of distress on her face. She was still pretty young. She had a smooth, young face face, but with a few smile lines. No crows feet yet. Her hair was shoulder length, black, and pin straight. She still had a young body. She wore her white blouse buttoned up to the top and tucked in to her black pants. She had a blue apron folded over at her hips, and standard black, nonslip sneakers. The man kept yapping about what he liked and how he wanted it. Finally the waitress cut in and said she would find a manager.
"Never mind, it's fine. I'll just have buttermilk pancakes with hash browns."
"Alright" Her voice turned to obvious annoyance. She turned on a dime and hurried away.
"Jeez, what a piece." My mother whispered to me.
"Yeah, glad I don't work in restaurants." I whispered back.
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