A very short story by D.J. Lutz; copyright December 2010
Mick walked into the all-night diner as the cook, the only cook as it turned out, bounced a raw pork chop off the manager’s face. The meat went flying into a tub of dirty dishes as the manager grabbed the cook by the shirt and shoved him over the counter. Seeing that the confrontation was quickly moving outside to the parking lot, Mick decided to stay out of it. Not his fight. All he really wanted was a deep fried Monte Cristo sandwich, slathered with sugar. Had to have sugar. That and the grease were guaranteed to cure his approaching hangover. Hopefully this little spat wouldn’t screw up Mick’s culinary prescription.
The manager returned, slightly shaken, certainly disheveled. “If he comes back…call the cops.” He disappeared into his little office in the back corner, shutting the door.
The girl at the counter, now the only visible employee, came up to Mick. “Menu?”
“Does it matter? There doesn’t seem to be a cook.”
“He’ll be back. They get into it every so often. Not a big deal.”
“So…should I order now…or wait?”
“Well, if you want something in particular, I suggest you order it. Otherwise, you’ll get the chef’s surprise.”
“You all do a Monte Cristo?”
“Nope. We have an Elvis sandwich, though. Peanut butter, bacon and a banana. That’s a popular one with the late niters. Will that work for ya?””
“The chef’s surprise sounds intriguing. Maybe I’ll get that, instead. And a cup of coffee.”
The girl tuned away, grabbing a mug off of the rack as she moved towards the row of dusty glass coffee pots.
Mick looked at his watch, wondering when the cook would return. He looked up just in time to see the cook slam open the front door.
“Whatta we got, Pearl?”
As the cook made his way around the counter to the kitchen, Mick saw him reach down into the dish tub, saying “Pork chop it is…”
It’s Flash Fiction Friday! Feel free to comment, or add your own flash fiction (300 – 500 words) or a link to it. Thanks for reading!