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Don’t Go To Denny’s

Janet Kuypers, 12/26/09

So one morning
leaving New Orleans on New Year’s Day
ready to head back to Chicaog
she said we should stop at a Denny’s for breakfast...
and I get it
remember being a Goth drama kid
hanging out at Denny at all hours of the night
because you sere too young to drink in a bar
but I don’t go to Denny’s
because

One year, after partying for New Year’s in D.C.
Paul, one my buddies there,
said he wanted to go to this diner in Delaware
for breakfast.
Now, we hadn’t had anything to eat,
and we had been drinking forever for New Year’s,
so we thought this was a great idea
and off we went.

Now, as I said, we hadn’t eaten,
and we were starving in Maryland,
so when we saw exits to Annapolis
we thought, this is a good place
to grab breakfast

we walked into an empty Denny’s
which didn’t even have locks on their doors
‘cause they were always open
they sat us in a booth
and took our order.

the waitress brought Paul’s Grand Slam
and whatever I ordered
I don’t know,
an omelet, hash browns

just after we started eating
a really big man entered Denny’s
and even though the Denny’s was empty
they sat him right behind me
in the booth right next to us.

he was built like Chief Wiggum
and he shook my seat
as he worked his way in.
I thought of the Simpsons episode
where Wiggum was in a booth at a diner
and Lou had to stab Wiggum’s seat with a switchblade
popping it like a balloon
so Wiggum could get out of his booth.

so when he sat in his seat
he moved my booth seat six inches toward my table
and he immediately lit up a huge cigar
that smelled like
burning manure
now, how would I know
what burning manure smells like?
okay, look, I’ve worked on a farm
lived in one for a bit
and when I tried to eat
all I could smell was that burning manure

so not two minutes after Wiggum sat down
I started hearing noises
and my seat started moving.
a minute into the gurgling noises
which sounded more and more like heaves
I suddenly heard
what sounded like
wet plaster
splattering
against cement

this man right behind me
was shaking, and threw up
foroveroneminute.

now instead of burning manure
all I could smell was his alcohol and bile

so I said to Paul
right then and there,
“we’re leaving,
and not paying for our food.”
still eating, Paul said,
“what? why?”
so after I tyrannically whispered
about the smells and sounds
of the fat man’s vomiting escapes,
the nonplussed Paul relented
and followed me to leave.

I gave the waitress a tip,
but the people at Denny’s understood
why we wouldn’t pay.

so yeah, we did go to that diner in Delaware
and the food was good
and no one vomited

and you know,
for a minute there
I even thought about getting biscuits and gravy

but that New Year’s, I resolved
to never eat at Denny’s again.

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