Oh, we get all sorts in here. Through trade mainly, but we do have our regulars. You need a refill? I'll just put a fresh pot on, we'll leave the stale for the tourists. After sitting in an air conditioned car for a few hours, they can't taste anything anyway.
And ambulance races by on the highway, lights and siren blaring and dopplering away in the distance.
Yeah - it is a bad bit of road along here. Always accidents, especially at this time of night. We see the ambulance and the police a couple of times a night.
A rig slowly rumbles into the parking lot and wheezes into a parking space. The grumble of the engine dies with a last whisper as a man emerges. Huddled shapeless against the rain, he heads for the door.
Well - say the devils name and he'll appear! This guy is one of the regulars I was talking about. Rig pusher, usually does the night run up to Witchita. Always stops in here for a meal. Both on the way up, and on the way home. Guessin' he likes my cooking, and who can blame him? Let me refill your cup before he gets in here, he'll have me running round the grill for a bit!
The man edges his way through the door. He needs to twist to get his gut through. Must weigh 400 pounds. And not all that tall. A waitress meets him just inside the door. A laugh, a joke and he is deftly inserted in a booth, like a lightbulb in a socket. He waves, chins wobbling. "Yo Stan, hows it hangin? The usual for me please."
4 eggs, over easy. 4 strips of bacon, extra crispy. Two fried bread and two toast with butter, not oleo. Fried mushrooms. Beans. Hash browns. And half a grapefruit - to keep him regular. Large coffee - the good stuff, not the tourist junk. Can cook it in my sleep, always the same order. I'll be back in a minute. Want me to sling a bit of bacon and eggs on the griddle for you? No? OK.
Mina - order up! For Rodger on table 4. Let him know the kidneys are a present - I had a few to spare for a good customer.
Of course the beans are home made! Do I look like some piker that would open a tin? Slow baked in honey and salsa, with chorizo sausage and onion. All my food is fresh and wholesome - it is what brings in the customers.
Look at him eat. Guy should have a sign on the table - "Man working." I'd hate to get between his fork and his plate. Don't get me wrong - I like people enjoying my food. But that is a little gross. Finished the whole damn plate in 6 minutes. He even looks kinda grey now as he pays the bill.
"Mina, give Rodger a hand to his rig, then take a break."
Mina walks out, arm in arm with the fat man. Without a backward glance, she climbs into the cab. The rig coughs into life, clearing its throat like a smoker in the last stages of lung cancer.
Then idles.
And idles.
And idles.
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