WAITRESS: You want me to hold the chicken.
BOBBY: Yeah. I want you to hold it between your knees.
OK any way you want to cook them is fine...
DAMN!
The fellers name is Candy.
The male customer’s name is Candy.
The pistol packin’ waitress is named Angelic.
“I said SMOTHERED AND COVERED, not DICED AND CAPPED!”
"Complain about the person who is cooking your food, idjit."
Instead of pulling a gun, the cook might have happily redone the eggs with an oyster included.
Two clues: Atlanta and Waffle House.
Who said the customers always right????
WAITRESS: You want me to hold the chicken.
BOBBY: Yeah. I want you to hold it between your knees.
You serve me runny eggs I pull out my concealed AR.
After years of this, she refused to make him soft-boiled eggs at all
anymore. Anything else, mind you - but not soft-boiled eggs.
She said: "If you want soft-boiled eggs exactly the way you want
them, make them yourself!"
So after that, he did. LOL.
But, of course, he never pulled a gun on her.
“All their food is terrible, and such small portions too!”
I can see this with getting over easy that has liquid, runny, snot egg white because that’s just nasty and worthy of a duel.
Nothing good happens in any Waffle House after midnight.
Shooting someone over eggs is a total overreaction. If it were bacon, OK, maybe a warning shot or two but that’s IT.
Well, I mean, c’mon, cheese.
Don’t know if it’s to die for, but . . .
I remember the greasy spoon Totem Pole Restaurant in the old Western Union Building at 33 Marietta Street.
I just looked on the map and that Waffle House is in a relatively new building that replaced the falling down factory and warehouse buildings there when I first started working downtown forty years ago. On my drive into work from Marietta, I went down Marietta Street every day and parked in the parking lot next to the railroad tracks behind the Western Union Building. I walked past the Atlanta Urinal and Constipation building loading docks to get to Number One Peachtree Street, The First Atlanta Bank Building. It was a different time back then, walking out of the building after working a midnight shift, looking at Woodruff Park coming alive with the sun shining on everything. "Resurgens Atlanta" was still a thing.
Use to work in the Raleigh area and a couple of times a week, a few of us from the office would head down the street to the local Waffle House for breakfast. The waitress was in her late 60s-early 70s and would take our orders with a cigarette hanging off her lip. The cook was a large young black fellow on work release.
One morning, the waitress took our order but we couldn’t help but notice she was a little irritated. A few minutes later there was a big commotion back in the kitchen area and the waitress came storming out throwing off her apron a spitting out her cigarette and yelling, “EFF this job!, Waffle House and kiss my ass!” and out the door she went.
Haha! We just sat there wide-eyed when the cook leaned down through the opening to the kitchen laughing and holding a large metal spatula in his fist and asked us, “Now, how did you want them eggs?”
We looked at him and started laughing, “Anyway you want, Boss Man!”
Things escalated when Patterson became enraged by the customer’s complaints and pulled out the weapon, according to authorities.
—
That’s it. No tip for you!
So... no cheese, then?