This is an Unexpected Bump for Sure -- Chapter 4

Morning had broken.

Saw her standing there.

"What's it like outside?" she asked.

"Total bright sun -- something like a desert."

"Oh yeah."

"You know," she said, struggling with the granola bar wrapper, "if they made things easier to open, I know a lot of people who would be very happy"

"Like who?"


"Okay -- like WHOM?"


"That's not a lot of people."

"That's enough."

"I wonder," she said, "if there's a place to eat around here."

"I would think," I said, "where there's a motel, there's a place to eat."

"Let's find out," she said.

So I step out into the bright sunlight, blinded and squinting my eyes, stopping pretty dead.  Chloe runs right into me.

"Damn, man!"


"Let's find that eating place you talked about."


"Yeah -- you said there should be a place to eat around here."

"Just conjecturing."

"Maybe a little cough medicine would help that."


"The congestioning."

I stop.

"Trying to make a funny -- conjecturing -- congestioning -- you know . . .

I'm still stopped.

"You know!"

Then she punches me -- right in the ribs.

"Quit being such a toad!"

"If I were, I could catch flies and wouldn't have to look for a restaurant."

She punches me again.

"Let's look around for a place to eat," she says.

It's a sort of a town.  The motel sits by itself a good distance away from the rest of the buildings.  Not much of a town though.  Let's see -- there's a restaurant and a bunch of gas pumps -- big semi's parked behind it -- just a couple though.  This is really an out of the way spot.  I mean, the road is just a two lane -- looks like it goes from nowhere to nowhere -- like we are nowhere in the middle of nowhere.  You know?

So we sit down at the restaurant, booth by the window.  Big windows -- sunny outside, awnings and smokey plastic keeping out the brightness and the glare.  Dishes clattering in the back, and cook hollering at waitresses about the order.  A dozen people here -- where'd they all come from?  Maybe from town -- but what town?  This was all I saw of any kind of town. Waitress comes up, lays menus down, "Hi, I'm Rhonda and I will be your waitress.  You ready to order or will you need some time?"

"I need to look over the menu," Chloe says.

Waitress looks at me.

"Me too."

"You want anything to drink?"

"Coffee, please," we both intone about the same time.

"And water," I say.  Chloe says, "Me too."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

So I order pancakes and sausage and Chloe orders the french toast.  She gets a newspaper out of the machine, sits down, turns the pages.

"Nothing about you here," she says.

"You know I spelled your name right," I say.


"Yes -- did you read it?"

"Spell it."

Exasperated, I say, "All right."

"C H L O E -- there -- is that it?"

She sits there silent, leaving me in suspense.

The waitress fills our cups from the pot she's carrying.

'IS THAT IT??!!"

She laughs.  I stare at her.

"Yes it is," she says, "Thank you for getting it right."

Rhonda sets the check on the table, face down, and leaves.

I look at it, leave a good tip on top of the price of the meal.

As we get out the door, Chloe wonders what we're going to do now.

"A virtual dead-end," I say.


Actually :-)

This story makes sense to me.
May Your Light Forever Shine

thank you

at your service,
Dale M. Cannon

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