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Breakfast At Honkland Shonkastada

Reverend Ralston Pews had no idea what he was going to see at 
the Honkland Shonkastada Diner, but he knew it would be entertaining.
It always was.  A tiny confistacate was happening, he could hear it 
before he reached the door. Hugh Bet was no doubt changing the song
on the jukebox back to “The Old Rugged Cross”. Even Reverend Pews
was tired of that stupid song. Pews sat down, eager for the deliciously
luscious Mayvolah to take his order. She was a looker, with a beautiful
smile and all of her teeth.   Swivel Gut Mama came out of the kitchen.
The floor shook as she walked. ”What’s your poison?” she asked Pews.
He was horrified; she was a terror, had already beaten up several of
his parishioners for one infraction or another. 
	Lawyer Shoe Black from that prissy law firm, Vinel Bissons,
 and Filbert Food stain, lawyer at law, were  arguing in the next booth 
about whether Johnny Cash’s “Hucktub Namcahuck” or Elvis’s 
“Manny Joe Heeny’s Clutch in a Nine” would win the top music
award of the year.  “A Fecass omelet please,” Pews said to Swivel Gut.
That all? She asked, glaring at him. He had never noticed how many
whiskers she had growing out of her nose before.  She turned and
stomped back to the kitchen. 
	Before she made it, Sharbo Hemano the hog farmer came in.
She gave him the finger.  Interesting, Reverend Pews thought, more
drama than church.  Sharbo made loud grunting noises, and even the
mouthy lawyers stopped talking. If there were guns in here, they
would soon all be dead. Coming in here was maybe the bravest thing
Pews had ever done. You could now hear a blank page hitting the floor.
	The lovely Mayvolah walked in at that second. Full of energy
with a lilting laugh, and enough personality to choke all the hogs in
the place. “Hello!” she said, as she greeted all of her regulars.
“Reverend!” she said, stopping at Reverend Pews booth. Obviously
surprised. Ministers ate too, in addition to living in a church, right?
He blushed so hard his face looked like a pink unicorn. “I would have
been here sooner,” she said to the crowd “but that damned flat
tire Mestizo bike of mine lived down to her name.” There was 
a laugh or two. 
	Swivel Gut yelled from the kitchen, “Hey, Preacher man,
you get three kinds of meat with that Fecass. Did you want pork or 
bacon with your pepperoni?” He told Mayvolah he wanted pork, and
she went back to the kitchen to translate. 
	The sheriff came in and hollered “Whose Honda 305 Dream with rusty 
tail pipes is out here?” The hog farmer ran out to see what he was talking
about. Apparently he was in the handicapped space, and about to get towed.
Both lawyers ran to the door to hand out business cards when he returned.
Business is difficult to come by in this ten car town.
	“I’ll break both your legs if you come back to this kitchen!” someone
yelled. Pews looked up to see Sharbo jump back from the swinging door as if he
had been shot.  Pews had not realized he was back inside already.  “Can they
prove that E O Dangelbooger stole that55 Delta 98 with rusty tail pipes?” Filbert 
was asking Lawyer Shoe Black.  Everyone in the place heard it. So much
for confidentiality and a fair trial.
	Swivel Gut Mama Came stomping out of the kitchen. She was
holding a meat cleaver. “Who is talking about my hog?” she demanded.
She drove a Honda 350 Dream with rusty tail pipes.” Apparently, she
had caught only the last three words. Absent Anna would love it here,
Reverend Pews thought. Where is she anyway? She was usually 
at the Honkland Shonkastada  at this time a day.  
         Of course he had no way of knowing it, but she had died a few hours earlier and was in the opposite
corner drinking beer saying “Damn! This is good!”

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2022

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