Wednesday, July 09, 2014
He fell down. Many times a day.
Millie, the breakfast cook at the Starlight, wanted to
start a pool.
“When he turns the corner at Brently to the point where
he passes our exquisite diner? I’ve seen as many
as eight. So, if we can get eight people to throw in...?”
Lydia, the young waitress, thought that was mean.
The next time he fell outside the diner, she went
to help, coaxing him back in to the corner stool.
He ordered ham and eggs, finally declaring that he
homefries were the best he’d ever eaten.
On Millie’s good side forever after that.
He became her Jelly, and the stool his. His name had
proven to be Jellsome Wandersea. “Name like that’d
make you tumble all by itself,” opined Dishwasher Jerry.
He’d have gone on, but Millie barked to clear the pans
out around her. “I’ve got five omlettes working and
up to my elbows in dirty pans while you talk!”
Now that he had a family, Jelly fell less often.
One day, Patrice, retired on the 401K of a Princess from
Walmart, fell in front of Jelly.
He scooped her frailness up and into a booth. Where he
joined her...for a year.
Soon after, Cashier Mike asked Mr and Mrs Jellsome Wandersea
how everything was. “If anything, the homefries are even
more heavenly!” Jelly shouted, and Millie waved from her
cloud in the kitchen.
Mike never mentioned heretofore since he was born
fading into the background.
The couple went outside and fell.