"Cut me some slack, Ed - that was the worst cameo in the history of literature. It had to be done. I mean, shit...we were already on the road, and somehow I got a shot off all the way back to the showroom? ...whatever. How about we just pretend this didn't happen?"
"Fine by me," mumbled Ed, as he threw the 'vette into fifth and hit cruising speed.
There was no shortage of suspicion concerning their payment method back at the dealership. Ed was certain the heat was going to come down on them plenty quick, and with a hell of a lot more force than a single highway pig. His sociopath comrade informed him of the shortage of ammunition, and mentioned that he knew of a place where they could get some more firepower if Ed was, 'up for a challenge.'
"What have we got to lose?"
Coolbreeze navigated the Chevy to a truck stop about fifty miles west of their last stop. It was plenty isolated, and filthy as fuck. Ed had to wonder how places like this came to exist. He imagined walking into the Small Business Association and asking for a loan to start up a greasy spoon shithole in the middle of nowhere to work as a front for illegal firearm sales. Yeah, sure, the pencil pusher would say. No problem. The notion forced a chuckle out of Ed.
"What's so funny?"
"Forget it."
Leaving the shotgun behind, Coolbreeze led Ed into the diner to a pair of seats at the counter. The place was nearly empty, from what Ed could see. Apart from themselves, Ed counted the ugly waitress behind the counter, the freakishly fat cook in the kitchen, and just one other man, sitting several seats away at the other end of the counter. As the waitress approached, Coolbreeze whispered,
"Let me do the talking."
"Don't worry," said Ed, as he turned his attention to the menu.
'Breakfast
Dinner
Special' it read. There were no prices, oddly. He resigned himself to coffee. The waitress had arrived. She really was hideous, this woman. She had that sort of face that people have sometimes, where you have to wonder if their jaw works, or if they have any teeth to speak of. The errant hairs and skin tags did little to help matters. Just then, Cool spoke.
"Two specials."
