DWARF

Got two hot brown, three giantburger with grilled onions, one chick sand lettuce tomato onion mayo on the side, got three fry, one salad chopped tomatoes dressin on the side, five sweet tea with lemon, one co cola no ice, an small ice dream with chocolate syrup. Cook never looks up and she return to front stoop where menthol 100 smokes slowly upon a brick filter stained lipstick. Cars pull up and leave and people walk through the dwarf door and main doors and wait until tables are cleared or until some stool empties at the bar and the headlights shine through the glass and gleam over the menu tacked to the wall above. Not changed in fifty years.

Delta taramc workers sit the bar in blue coverall. Girl with permed blond hair pecks at a boy with a rat tail bleached white. Peach fuzz mustache. Acne. He spits his dip into an empty tea glass. She picks at lemon ice box pie. Waitress puts hot brown in front of Delta tarmac worker and he shovels at it with fork. Great mess of mashed potaotes and chicken and bacon and white gravy and cheese. Heart attack on a plate, he says.

Booths of septuagenarians. Hair unruly bolls blued held with Aquanet. They laugh and ask for more sweet tea and share a single small slice of chocolate pie. Their fingers are banded with gold and diamonds and wrists shimmer a jeweled. Underglass the dwarf panorama animate and children sit their knees and rock and point and some name the dwarves as they come ticking by as metal ducks flat and chipped of paint at carnival. Drunk man smacks through hamburger steak and sips coffee and plates of fries and grilled onions sit cold untouched and waitress comes by and pulls at his shoulder and asks if he all right and tells him no there aint no smokin in here last time I got to tell you hear and then you got to get gone.

Game done let out I reckon she says and vestibule standing room only teenagers in letter jackets and their parents and grandparents. No you gone do what right is what you gone do. He dribbles dip into his tea glass and it slinks down the side. Aint of no mind to get married. Then what the hell we gone do? Tell me that. Only thing we can do. You aint got a diddy that gone kill you number one. She stabs the lemon ice box pie with a straw. Got to take responsibility for this baby. It our baby. Aint only my baby. Yall okay? Need yalls check? Darlin you want me box that pie up for you or you okay darlin you done okay. Yall just take it on up to the register when yalls ready.

He lights the cigarette with the zippo and drags on it and smoke rolls up into the pendant light and he looks at the dwarves going by one two one two the children lunging on their knees the plates cold of onions and potoates and the waitress is on him her manager standing in creased slacks his mouth wound tight in frown. Aint told him but twice. I know I know he drunk. Smell like inside of the bottle sure nough. You want us to call someone for you? Is there someone we can call? You best not be drivin out there. Hapeville finest out and about Friday night. Big night for them mister. Well sam hill I reckon he done falled off asleep aint he?