sometimes...things are not all they are stacked up to be.
The chesty waitress with a half smile…pointed hanky in her pocket over heart…and pencil over her hoop adorned ear…stacked the orders on the wheel…on the counter near the pick up window…where the warmer dishes were stacked.The menus were stacked…near the register…where the already processed tickets…were stacked on a spindle. The coffee service and cups…were stacked on a separate table…next to the extra chairs…neatly stacked…near the door…where the customers were stacked…one behind the other…for the lunch rush.Some were just finishing their short stacks…while the chesty waitress removed syrups from the tables…and replaced them with catsup…mustard…and mayonnaise jars…stacked in a convenient metal trine stand. By this time…the orders were being put in the window…to be picked up…and as the orders stacked up…the smoke from the grill clouded the kitchen…and rose up under the stainless hood...up through the stack…and out into the city…where all the living quarters were…stacked tightly…one against the other. It was the usual busy day…and when lunch was over…the tables were cleaned…the menus were wiped off…and stacked again next to the register.All dishes…cups and saucers…had been washed…and again stacked in their familiar settings…for the next mornings breakfast…just breakfast and lunch…no dinners. The chesty waitress counted and stacked her coins on the counter…she bundled and stacked her one dollar bills on the counter…she stacked her tickets from the days work on the spindle… and stashed her tips in her apron pocket.She took her stacked hair…her bag…and made her chesty way home to her stacked living quarters.Another day had gone by…when she did not blow her stack.
