Hold the Eggs

After I sat at the counter and looked at the menu, I turned to the guy parked next to me and said, “I’m Roger.” I held out my hand. “I’ve always eat a good breakfast to start the day out right.”

     Charlie took my hand. “No question there. I look forward to a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns with a little hot sauce and a steaming cup of coffee.” 

     The waitress leaned in. “Good choice, Charlie. How do you want your eggs?”

     “Sunny side up and ready to run.”

     She nodded at me. “What about you, same?"

     “That’s good but I prefer steak and eggs, baked potato with butter and horseradish sauce and a shrimp cocktail. Oh yeah! Hold the eggs.” I licked my lips. “And how about a breakfast beer?”

     Shirley looked puzzled but shrugged. “How do you want your steak cooked?”

     “With band-aids.” I set the menu down.. “Beer first please, with a glass.”

     “You’re the boss.”

     Charlie said. “That sounds like dinner and what’s a breakfast beer?”

     “It’s a beer poured into a glass.” I smiled. “What time do you have?”

     “I’ve got 8:15 a.m.”

     “So, it’s breakfast!” I laughed. “Did you ever have breakfast for dinner?”

     “Yes, of course.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I love breakfast for dinner.”

     “Then why not dinner for breakfast?” 

     “I really don’t have a solid argument.” Charlie reached for napkin. “It just sounds wrong.”

     “I think you might be brainwashed.” I popped open my beer and poured it into a glass. “Who sets the rules for what’s acceptable food at each meal?”

     “I don’t know . . . the food police.”

     “There are no rules . . . just choices. Be a rebel.”

     Charlie signaled the waitress. “Can I add . . . onion rings to my order?”

    “Of course, Charlie." She winked. "You rebel.”