Today's lunch at the Golden Corral will be my last. Everyone there knows me, especially Della, the waitress. Why would I leave and never go back, you ask. Here's why:
Della: Hi hon, how ya doin'?
Me: Aside from a small tiff with the supervisor, I'm doing fine.
Della: Can I pour you some more coffee?
Me: Sure. How's your day going?
Della: We're short staffed in the kitchen, Frank went home sick this morning.
Me: Oh the poor thing, did he have the flu or something?
Della: No, it was anthrax.
Me: CHECK PLEASE!
And the sad thing is, Della was dead serious.
IT'S ALMOST TIME!!! She's at week 39!!! I think the picture says the rest!!! God Bless!!
1 year ago