From the moment I entered the establishment and loudly declared the smell of kitchen to be “totally fudgin’ amazeballs” I set a bad example of what a good patron sounds like. To make matters worse, wearing my torn jeans and blood stained shirt left my visual aesthetic to be desired.
Let me tell you of the moments leading to my appearance in the entryway of the cozy little diner, as I feel some explanation will help explain my behavior.
You see, I’m not usually one for dramatic entrances. But the hours leading up to my terrible behavior might help my pending court case. Continue reading