A Waitress Took Our Orders
“Breakfast?” the waitress asked. She wiped her left hand on her apron and her right hand across her brow and smirked. Then she scratched the top of her head and contorted her expression somewhat, for a second, then stopped and smirked again.
“Suuuure,” I said, lisping slightly. “I’ll have the, uh, eggs benedict, coffee, and some orange juice.” My breakfast companion nodded vague approval.
“Okaaaaayyyy,” the waitress drawled. “Eggs benedict………… coffffffeeeee…….. and OJ. Super!” Her expression (a smirk) betrayed her words. The nametag placed perfectly on the center of her left breast caught my eye:
Her long, synthetic-black ponytail wrapped over her shoulder and tickled the top of the sticker. She underlined something on her pad of paper loudly and leveled a stare at my breakfast companion. The waitress raised her eyebrows at him and smirked, waiting for his order.
“What would youuuuuuu have, Sonia?” he asked.
“It’s ‘suh-NEE-uh’,” she said. “Like Leah. I like our waffle.”
“Hmmmm,” he said, for a long time. He thought about it forever. “Not today. Eggs benedict sounds good, actually.”
“You want eggs benedict?” she asked, staring at her pad.
“Yes,” he said, “and coffee.”
“Ohhhhh jayyyyy?” she said, scribbling wildly on the pad for some reason.
“Yes,” he said, with a violent nod.
“Okay, gentlemen!” she said, loudly, with sudden perk. “Coming right up!”
Sonia the waitress flashed a quick smile then rolled her eyes, sort of, and turned around, wagging her butt forcefully as she walked away.
Breakfast came 20 minutes later and we ate it. It was pretty good. I felt full and a little bit angry.
