September 4, 2022--A Continuation of a Situation
by Karen Schwabenland And Ferdinand also went up from Texas, from the town of Houston, to North Carolina, to the city of Ashville, which is called The South, because he was of the house and lineage of these United States of America, to vacation with Karen, his wife, who was great with hunger. And while they were there, the time came for her to eat. After much prodding, he pulled their minivan into the brand new Waffle House that was right across the street from their hotel (which also offered waffles every morning). However, we should all understand that Belgian hotel waffles are not Waffle House waffles, and therefore not Southern. Or not Southern enough. Upon choosing from all of the open parking places, Ferdinand stated, "No one's here." "The lights are on," spoke Karen. "The lights may be on, but nobody's home," said Ferdinand. "Let me just go check," she replied. And upon that statement, she exited the vehicle and walked to the door of the establishment. It was open. She spied a woman siting at the counter looking at her phone. When she heard the door open, the aproned, toothless woman put down her phone and bounded over to the door and stood in the threshold. "Are ya'll open?" asked Karen. "Nah, I had to close. I ain't got no cook," replied the woman. "He had to go home and get his inhaler." "Oh. O.K.," said Karen. She could picture the woman behind the counter making waffles for only them in the empty restaurant, but she could also tell that she wasn't going to get past the doorway as the woman firmly occupied the indoor Welcome! mat. Karen turned back and reported this news to Ferdinand who waited in the idling car. He tapped on his phone looking for alternative places to eat. "She turned us away," said Karen indignantly as she got back inside and began buckling up. Just then, she saw a man ambling up to the door of the Waffle House. He had prowled out from around the back of the garbage dumpster--which was in their view as the parking lot was empty. "Look there," said Karen. "I'll bet he's the cook!" The both watched as the man stumbled closer to the door of the Waffle House. "That's a strange place to use an inhaler though." "I don't think he was using any inhaler," stated Ferdinand. "Let's wait a minute. Maybe they'll open back up." "I'm not eating anything that a man who resides in a garbage dumpster cooks." Ferdinand started the car and began backing it out. Karen watched as the woman in the Waffle House allowed the man to enter. "You don't know that he lives in there," she said. "He doesn't have to live in there. All he has to do for me not to want to eat here is to look like he lives there. And in this case, it's not a stretch to believe it." Karen was left unsatisfied with this ending. "I'll bet they're having a tryst," she said. Ferdinand laughed. "A tryst in Waffle House?" "Tis passing strange," she mused. "Where would they tryst?" asked Ferdinand. "Right there on the counter for God and all to see?" "Oh, no," said Karen. "It would definitely be behind the counter, near the waffle machine. "You have a completely unholy fascination with this place." "Maybe I do, but I still want my waffles." "Our hotel serves breakfast starting at six a.m." And thus endeth the adventures with Waffle House and The South. Book of Common Waffles |
AuthorKaren Schwabenland--Keeper of a daily blog of written matter, reporter of events large and small, and charlatan extraordinaire Archives
September 2022
Categories |