You haven't lived until you wake up in the backseat of your own car covered in puke, using someone else's bloody battle axe as a pillow, all while sleeping on a bed of empty beer cans that you cannot know for sure who actually drank. Imagine that, and then imagine that situation in front of a shitty road side diner and you have just experienced my morning. Well that, and then imagine that you really hate breakfast.
The sun is never brighter than when you wake up unsure of where you are or how you got there. When I finally fell out of the backseat and brushed as much of the puke off my coat as I could manage I noticed Dirt waving at me through the window with a stupid grin and a fork supporting a healthy amount of pancakes. I stared at him stupidly for a moment, my hung over brain attempting to decipher how glass worked, and made for the door.
The diner was your typical greasy spoon, not a place you would ever eat at by choice, but when drunk or recently drunk it was heaven. If you liked breakfast anyway. Everything looked sticky and it smelled like hell, my stomach was in no mood for this type of assault and almost revolted. I gained control over my urge to vomit and went to sit down with Dirt and Poncho.
They were sitting in a booth opposite each other and I unconsciously opted to slide in next to Dirt after seeing how poorly Poncho's mass fit into the seat. Dirt had a spread of virtually every breakfast food in front of him, all partially consumed. Poncho had one empty plate that no doubt had held a large portion of meat.
"About time you got up sleepy head." Dirt said past a mouthful of awful.
I managed a grunt of pure misery. Poncho nodded.
"I need you to talk some sense into Ponch here, he has gone balls out crazy on this one."
"About what?" I asked reflexively, I doubted I really wanted to get involved in their shit so soon after my back seat slumber.
"Poncho says pancakes are gross." Dirt said with over exaggerated disbelief and spitting food across the table.
"Pancakes are gross." I mumbled.
"Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth? Seriously that filth coming out of the two of you fucks mouths is ruining my breakfast." Dirt seemed honestly upset.
"I just don't like breakfast." Another mumble slipped out.
"Da Fuck you say Frank?" Dirt said while standing up on the seat of the booth. "Did Poncho put you up to this shit? Seriously Frank, tell me you actually like breakfast or I will pour this syrup in Poncho's beard and right down your lying throat! I am seriously going to fuck both of you clowns up with syrup."
"Dirt, I am really hung over and I am just not a big fan of breakfast." Although I am not sure if I said that because I don't like breakfast or if I really wanted to see him pour syrup down Poncho's beard.
"Okay, so you assholes hate the only meal where it's acceptable to dump maple syrup on literally everything on your plate. Maple syrup is the second greatest invention in the history of ever, an entire country's economy is built on harvesting and selling it! Seriously go to Canada and start saying crazy shit like that, it's fucking illegal. They will throw you in syrup rehab. Oh, that is assuming that the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Officer that responds to the locals beating the shit out of your blasphemous syrup hating cock holster doesn't beat you to death first." Dirt said to the chorus of morons actually cheering for his speech by the time he finished. "Frank, chug that fucking bottle of syrup or I will never talk to you again."
"Promise?" I replied over the drums in my head.
"That is it. You fucks have pushed me over the line."
I had a hard time keeping track of what Dirt was saying at this point, but somewhere between telling me that he was going club me to death with a maple branch and explaining how he would have a moose drenched in syrup violate me, Poncho casually pulled a beer from somewhere and slid it across the table to him.
"Dirt, sit down and drink your beer. We don't need another hostage situation. This isn't Canada and they don't care what your reasons are here." Poncho said while cracking himself open a beer.
Dirt promptly sat down and shotgunned the impeccablely timed beer. "Your right Ponch, maple syrup is kinda overrated anyways."