It's not the sausage house

I went to eat breakfast at the Waffle House this morning because last night I was hungry and told myself I would go to eat breakfast at waffle house. I don't think there's a clean waffle house anywhere but that's okay; the grease on the walls and the dirty cups are part of the experience, I think.

There were maybe five people at the waffle house and I made six. Next to me at the front bar was a basketball player from my school and his girlfriend. He seemed drunk. I talked to him because he's my favourite basketball player at school. I don't know his name but I call him Smiles. Smiles was very drunk.

The two waitresses were talking about their vacations, how one went to Idaho and the other went to New York. This sent Smiles on a streak.

"New York? I'm from mother fucking NEW YORK!"

The waitresses didn't say anything and kept talking. Smiles wouldn't stand for this.

"Now where the fuck did you go in New York? Man, I'm from mother fucking New York CITY!"

I looked at his girlfriend and took a sip of my coffee. She shrugged at said it was true, that he was from the Bronx.

"MOTHER FUCKING NEW YORK CITY UP IN HERE"

He stopped after this and ate his waffle and sausage. His girlfriend picked at her food. He asked her what's wrong. She said the sausage doesn't taste good. He said this is the mother fucking waffle house not sausage house, bitch. And then I felt good. Because he was right. This was the mother fucking waffle house. And I was happy.