The waitress who took them to their booth looked a little like an insect, eyes huge and faceted. Her wrinkles writhed on her face with a life of their own.
Grady guided him to a seat in the booth before plopping his own girth down across from Charles with a sigh.
“Something to drink?” the bug waitress asked.
“I’ll have a coffee, please,” said Grady, “and my friend here will have…a chocolate milk!” The man made the last words sound like a eureka moment.
The bug lady stared at Grady for a moment, turned what was probably a disapproving look at Charles, shook her head, then went to fetch their drinks.
“Fuck you, bug face,” Charles muttered.
“That what she looks like to you right now? I gue...
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