It was business as usual at the anomalous 'Dingy Diner,' which rested between a pathetic little bike shop and a hopping late-night dance club called 'Beautiful You,' on the corner of Ashland and Prospect, right in the heart of Plummer, South Dakota. Aaron's manager Ricky, a portly, unattractive chef-by-trade, tended to belittle his servers, which he referred to as "bitch bees," because of the way they seemed to scurry around the diner: The buzz of the rickety, old air conditioner, which hung in the diner's only street-side window, completed the bee characteristics of the swarm. Aaron rather enjoyed the tag of bitch bee and often buzzed obnoxiously as he passed ol' Ricky. What Aaron didnt appreciate, or, more frankly, detested was Ricky's grin. Sometimes Aaron thought it would be worth losing his lowsy, low-paying job to use all the force in his 135-pound body to slap it right off Rickys face. Many days Aaron imagined the quarrel that would ensue if he did just that: He could surely outrun his mangy manager, but if Pauly got a hold of the scrawny 17 year old, it could quite possibly result in hospitalization of his banged up body. Aaron put up with the poor management because Ricky never asked much of the extraordinary out of him. The tips were measly on the inexpensive meals. Mostly burgers and cold sandwiches were served to the patient patrons, which often skewed older in age. Aaron had no prospects for higher education and imagined he'd eventually saunter into the car-sales business, much like his father Steve did at the age of 18. The ladder of Steve's career was awfully horizontal and because his mother hardly made a wage for herself (answering phones in the dealerships service center), money was tight, and handouts were hard to come by in the Woodruff household. Aaron Woodruff imagined his future much brighter than his father's, as he made fairly good grades in high school and had been quite the socialite in various circles of friends and confidants. Aarons best friend, his girlfriend, Lisa, respected him and saw potential in his dark, hazel eyes, but, like many others, wished he'd drop his job at the diner to focus more on studies and possibly earn a scholarship to go to a local university. Lisa's imagination often wandered to their make-believe, future home, quaintly located in a suburb of the pleasant and not-too-crazy city of Plummer. She was a year younger than Aaron, but very mature for her age, making her a fine anchor for Aaron's youthful temperament. One day, sure enough, Lisa thought she'd do something nice for Aaron and get a French manicure at the local salon. Aaron always liked Lisa's hands and wished she'd do something in the way of getting her nails shaped up and maybe applying a modest color. Unfortunately, the color she chose enraged a sensitive nerve in Aaron and he lost all interest in her. He quit his job at the Diner shortly after bitch slapping Ricky and decided he'd set off for the west coast and see if he could work his way into the car-sales business a little early. Lisa ended up devastated and cut her left pinky finger off in mourning of her loss.
Moral of the story: Beware of French manicures
The End
Curtis von Tacky
I'd arrest you if I had handcuffs.
