“No matter how bad of a cook you are eggs always taste the same.” Hank had read that once, and now was beginning to believe it.
His bloodshot eyes strained to stay open as he cracked open a pair of eggs. Orders for the two egg special had been coming through all night. It had become a local favorite for the after bar crowd. Drunks flocked to the greasy eggs and coffee en masse. The eggs worked their magic on the alcohol. At least long enough for a person to make it home with one eye closed.
Between order Hank stole glances at a text book splayed open under the counter, reading and re-reading the same passages over and over again. The words blurred together, moving in and out of focus. His exhausted mind couldn’t grasp the concepts of the new age economy in a post modern society any more then it could grasp the concept of fire being hot.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
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