Dinner Conversation

My wife and I went out to dinner at the Cracker Barrel. It's such a slow and cozy laid-back place, there's usually not any drama. Usually.

Our waitress approached. "Hello," she said. "I had kidney stone surgery this morning and got called in to work because somebody didn't show up, and I'll be taking care of you tonight."

We placed our order. At Cracker Barrel, they always bring out yummy biscuits while you wait. I asked for jelly to go along with mine (Ding! Plot point! This will come back to haunt me!). She nodded and went to the kitchen, pulling her I.V. Stand along behind.

Next to us, a table of ladies were placing their order. "I want pancakes," one lady insisted, "But not too big, and not too small. I want them about this size," and indicated a nebulous lopsided circle with her hands.

"I have an idea," said her waitress. "I could bring out the pancakes we make for everybody, and you could just eat what you want." "No, that would never work."

Our waitress brought out the biscuits and jelly. Usually, they bring out jelly in little tins. But this time, she brought out...



"Ma'am," I timidly asked, "Do you happen to have any incontinent pets back in the kitchen?" "No," she replied. "Why?"

"No reason."

Thank goodness she brought butter, too.

Nearby, the ladies at the "Appropriate Pancake Size" table were having a spirited discussion about their high school graduating classes.

"I graduated in a class of 102, and it turns out 8 of them are millionaires."

"Ha! *I* graduated in a class of 67, and 8 of *us* are in jail!"

During their riotous laughter, my wife and I looked around for our waitress. We saw her off in a corner, pressing the button for her morphine drip and grinning wearily.

"I think we'll have to get our own refills."

"I'll have what she's having!"

Maybe I can get our medical insurance to cover part of the dinner tab.