They're here again. It's their day, after all.

They're sitting in your section.

You bring waters, menus, extra napkins. You're a professional: you smile. A lot. Maybe a bit wider than necessary. It doesn't reach your eyes. If you just keep smiling, they'll eventually finish, you can bus their table, and it'll be over for another week.

Their conversation drifts among the usual topics: pies, children, grandchildren, pies, taxidermy, plastic sheeting, pies, bolt cutters, bone saws, pies.

They only ever order meat.

Finally they rise, they pay, they're gone. You smile them right out the door.

They've left a generous tip. You're not sure what it is, but you put it in the jar in the back with all the rest. It would be rude to refuse it.

And you're pretty sure they would know.

     

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CONTENTS RANDOM