#moschicane

“You’re not using your words very well,” Ned replied, fishing the soggy package of sugar out of the cup. He set it on his napkin.

Boyd made a disgruntled noise, “Well, maybe I’d know how to use my words better if I’d gotten some fucking sleep recently.”

Ned gave Boyd a cheeky smile, “I also haven’t slept just as long as you have.”

“Fuck off,” Boyd said, bringing his cup of coffee up to his lips and taking a long drag of it.

Ned laughed, trying to keep it down as they were the only ones in the restaurant apart from the staff. He glanced over at the lone waitress, who was slumped behind the counter, with her head buried in her arms.

“Is she dead?” Boyd asked, following Ned’s gaze.

“I don’t think so.”

“Hmm. Pity,” Boyd said.

“Pity?”

“It’d be easier to rob the place if she were dead.”

“We’re not going to rob a fucking Waffle House, Boyd.”

“Why not? Think about it; waffles for days,” Boyd said, gesturing with his hands.

“You don’t even like waffles,” Ned said.

“Oh yeah, I don’t. Remind me again why we’re at a Waffle House, then?”

“This is the only place open at three in the morning and we’re hungry,” Ned said.

“Hmm,” Boyd said. He took another sip of his coffee, “Shall we order, then?”

Ned nodded, and stood up from the counter. He walked over to wear the waitress was and said, “Ma’am, we’re ready to order.”

She jolted upward, “Oh yes! Go back to your table, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Ned smiled at her and headed back to to the table. Boyd was currently stalking the cream cups into a small pyramid. Ned sat back down and said, “Having fun?”

“I’m tired, Ned,” Boyd simply said.

The waitress arrived with another pot of coffee and a small notebook. She refilled both of their coffee cups and then said, “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a waffle,” Boyd said.

“Um… sir, which waffle?”

“I don’t care,” Boyd said, plopping his menu down.

“He’ll actually have the steak and eggs, with regular toast and hashbrowns,” Ned said, glaring at Boyd. “I will have the pecan waffle, thank you.”

The waitress looked from Boyd to Ned, and giving them an uncertain look. Her expression warped into a forced smile, and she said, “Coming right up, sir,” before she scurried away to the kitchen.

“Did you have to be an asshole?” Ned asked once she left.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware there were more than one kind of waffles,” Boyd said.

“Can you not read your menu?”

“You think I have the mental capacity to read after being awake for forty-eight hours?” Boyd demanded. He slapped the menu with his hand, making a loud noise as his knuckle rapped against the table, “Besides, they’re waffles, how fancy can waffles be?”

“We’re in a place called Waffle House, and you think they only have one kind of waffle?” Ned said.

“I. Have not. Slept. In. Forty-eight. Hours,” Boyd said through his teeth. He took his coffee and a couple of the cream cups from his pyramid and began to dump them in. He swirled his coffee around with his spoon and then downed it all in one go. “She forgot to ask how I wanted my steak.”

“I don’t think it really matters,” Ned said.

“If this place was any good, it’d matter,” Boyd said.

Ned pinched the bridge of his nose, “This isn’t a five-star establishment. If anything, it probably has negative stars. We just need food, and then we can get out of here.”

“Lying low is garbage,” Boyd said, “How fucking big is Texas, anyways?”

“Big,” Ned said.

“I hate America,” Boyd said. “With your Waffle Houses and your stupidly big States. Do you want to know how long it takes to drive across England?”

“How long?” Ned said, an amused smile on his face.

“Ten hours,” Boyd said, “For the entire country. If we drove ten hours now, we’d be in the middle of fucking Texas still.”

“Mhm,” Ned said. He picked up the soggy sugar package and forced it open. He dumped it in his coffee and slowly mixed it. He took a slow sip of his coffee.

A couple moments later, the waitress came back with two plates of food, “Sorry for your wait, sirs.”

“It’s no problem,” Ned said while Boyd gave the woman a seething glare. She gave Ned a nervous smile and then backed away to her spot by the counter.

Boyd looked down at his plate of food and said, “This looks like shit.”

“Just eat it,” Ned said.

Boyd obliged, and the two of them began their meal in silence. Ned watched as Boyd carefully sawed into his steak, leaving the toast and the hashbrowns untouched.

“Watching your weight?” Ned asked.

“You know I have to keep my waist trim,” Boyd replied, “Besides. You ordered the hashbrowns so you could eat them, not for me.”

“Oh, you know me too well,” Ned said. He finished his last bit of his waffle, and then reached his hand out. Boyd slid his plate over. Ned scraped the hashbrowns off of Boyd’s plate and onto his own, and then passed Boyd his plate back.

Boyd gave Ned an unimpressed look and went back to eating his steak. He finished it just as Ned finished his hashbrowns. Boyd frowned, “We waited thirty minutes for a meal that took us five minutes to eat.”

“Are you going to ask to speak to the manager?” Ned teased.

“No,” Boyd said. “But I’m going to ask that we never come back to a Waffle House ever again.”

“No Waffle Houses?”

“No,” Boyd said.

“Fair enough,” Ned said. Ned stood up, “I’m going to pay. Get the car started.” 

He tossed Boyd the keys.

They bounced off of his chest and onto the table. Boyd slowly looked from the keys to Ned, his hand slowly reaching out to grab the keys. He pulled them onto his lap and then got out of his seat. Ned tried not to laugh as Boyd walked out of the restaurant, muttering obscenities under his breath.

The waitress was ready behind the register. Ned fished out a few bills and handed them to her. She rang him through and passed him his change. “Have a good night, sir.”

Ned gave her a small salute and then left the establishment.

Boyd was sitting in the passenger seat, his head resting against the dashboard. 

Ned got into the driver’s seat and turned to his partner, “Where to?”

“Anywhere but a fucking Waffle House,” Boyd said.