there were maggots in the sink today. margot is a good name, i think about it often. but for the past week i've gone by martha. for about a month it was yvette. there's something to be said about working eighty hours in one week. standing in a cement box serving fried goods. sometimes i feel i'm doing the world a great disservice. and the military men come in by the dozens in the morning. and they don't tip. and they ask for their military discount. ten percent off. sons of bitches, these guys. ever once and again, usually on the night of a full moon, i'm accused of being racist, when i say "you guys" instead of "y'all." i'm from ohio. so they tell me i am racist and leave with a confident "fuck you!" fucking fuming, i am. hot boxing cigarettes. five minutes later they come back in and ask for orange juice. i tell them they've offended me, pissed me off, and i don't want to get them anything.

the large group of boys come in screaming steak and eggs i want steak and eggs. i take their order, how do you want your eggs.
how do you want your eggs, baby?
i don't want any eggs. i'm not hungry.
well if you ain't hungry, then i ain't hungry.
how do you want your eggs.
i want my eggs however you want yours. let me feed you eggs.
i'm not hungry.

another man walks in and the trouble beings. i watch it unfold quickly. lately, i've been very soft spoken, and i frighten myself when i begin the scream expletives at the top of my lungs directed at the giant fight about the break out. they've puffed up their chests. they're looking down their noses. the cop comes in. disturbing the peace, sir. so they all start to pile out the door. the cops stands there. furious i eye him and inform him these customers haven't paid for their fucking food. is he just going to fucking stand there, or arrest them for not paying? he straightens up. goes to get them. they pay for their fucking food.

i work with this guy who has a withered hand. who goes out of his way to make jokes about it. so i ask, what happened to your hand. oh my mom did crystal meth while she was pregnant. i'm missing the longest bone in my arm. actually, she just over-dosed yesterday, so i have to leave at two, she has surgery.
then there's this lady named gwen. a very sweet lady. on thursday they took her kids away. because her boyfriend spanked the littlest one, who proceeded to mention it in school. so they just call up child services, and take her kids away. no ma'am, you can't see your kids. and if you do get them back, and lay so much as a finger on them, you'll never seem them again. you're going to have to take parenting classes before you regain custody as well.
jessica has had a brain tumor since she was nine. her parents are crackheads, so they don't really care to invest the money into the situation. she works innumerable hours at two jobs to afford her own medication. she's sixteen. she's done everything for herself. and no one seems to want to do anything for her. she wants to join the military. the other days she told me she is pregnant. she comes to work to tell me her house was broken into, and all their belongings stolen. including the money she had saved up to send to the doctors. and i think, oh god, i am grieving for you. and please don't get discouraged. she tells me, now i'm going to die, because people want to steal my money.

and what am i to do. this compassion is overwhelming. had i money in my pocket i would say take it.



occasionally, at some point late at night, she will play a handful of songs, one of which being "american soldier." i try in vain to explain to her why i hate it. because i don't like country, i don't like people writing songs about america, and i especially don't like songs where someone talks about how great they are. then we play johnny cash, which is glorious. the line, "i shot a man in reno, just to watch him die" may be one of the best lines in a song, ever. i need a hair cut. why are eggs so delicious to me? i don't understand. is it because my dad used to make eggs for breakfast every wednesday before school. scrambled, poached, sunny side up, over medium, over easy/light, over hard/well, basted, hard boiled, soft boiled. holy-shit. there are a lot of ways to cook eggs. and now, i'm going to go to work and eat some. someone told me once that they had seem an old woman drinking red wine out of a huge glass, while eating a soft boiled egg, and thought of me. i do hope i am that lady some day.