“Up here at Highway 50, go right and we’ll hit the Waffle House at Main Street,” Sarge commanded. “Good idea,” Bugs chirped, “that’s the...best damn Waffle House in town.” Wiping off a table by the front window, Doreen heard the siren and noticed a city police cruiser speeding down the street with its blue lights on. “Wilbur!” she yelled, “we got some customers comin’.” As soon as she said that, the cruiser’s siren and lights stopped as it slowed and pulled into the Waffle House parking lot.. It had been professionally cleaned. The fridge and freezer were empty as well, left open and packed with wadded-up newspapers, an old trick to keep refrigerators in storage from smelling like hell. There was an older gas range--a Roper, the same kind we owned when I was a kid. I remembered getting the shit shocked out of myself while bellying up against it while trying to operate the oven timer. I'd want to re-wire the thing before plugging it in. I was handy that way, being an electrician.The. More

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