“Great! The car broke down again,” said George. George was an averagely tall man with broad shoulders, and a powerful stance. However, the eternal baby fat on his face contrasted with his strong appearance and made him appear rather funny looking to others. George also had another terrible problem: George was the unluckiest man in the world. He was the kind of person who always had something go horribly wrong. If George did not drop his keys in the sewer, he was chased down the street by a duck of all things, or his car would ironically break down at a demolition site with debris raining down on top of it. Today was the seventeenth time this week that his car had broken down and the eighth time he ended up stranded in the middle of nowhere.
“Well, I guess I’m going to have to walk nearly five miles to town to find a mechanic who can repair my car,” George shouted into the empty air. Now on top of being extremely unlucky, George also had absolutely no sense of direction. When he finally reached town he had no idea where to go. He eventually ran into Moe’s Café after wandering about town for more than two hours. He had developed an enormous appetite by then. “I’ll eat something here, and then find a mechanic,” George reasoned.
Moe’s Café was a dump: the floor was a barf green colored tile, littered with napkins and food debris. The floor was scuffed and sticky from lord only knows what. Furthermore, the walls were covered with hunting trophies of several endangered animals that were illegal to hunt, including the tusks of elephants. There was an ancient jukebox in one corner, which only played songs from the 50s. The television in Moe’s Café was an old black and white without any sound permanently stuck on a boring biography channel.
George plopped down into a seat at the first booth on the left. He was immediately bombarded by numerous foul odors. For some reason he smelled a damp wet animal, which gave him the feeling that barf green colored tile was not the original color. In addition, the café had mold under the table and faintly reeked of gasoline.
George waited for over ten minutes before a waitress named Blanch came to take his order. Blanch could easily pass for a woman from the 50s. She was as ancient as the jukebox and many people believed that she owned the jukebox. Her hair looked like a hotel for birds and her whole body made creaking sounds with every movement she made. Blanch had a surprisingly rich and youthful voice for one so old. When she asked for his order, George thought he heard an angel at first.
Only then did he see the menu. The main dish was liver and onions and the only other option were eggs. However, Blanch bluntly informed him that the eggs were a month past their freshness date. The beverages choices were limited to only thick black coffee without sweetener or water. Thus, George was forced to order the liver and onions with black coffee.
After a couple of minutes of listening to people in the next booth talking about cleaning birds for cooking, Blanch brought George his meal. The toast that came with the meal was stale and moldy. The rest of the food was not much better, but George was hungry and finished everything. Unfortunately, when he finished the meal he promptly realized he had left his wallet in his broken down car five miles outside of town.
When he told this to Blanch, she went back to talk to Moe. Blanch returned with a large, fat hairy man, who was obviously in his late fifties. He had a large bald spot on the middle of his head. Moe looked like he was constantly sweating and George thought he tasted a strange salty substance in his mouth. When he approached, George could tell that he was furious.
“What do you mean you can’t pay me,” Moe exclaimed, “NO ONE eats here for free! If you can’t pay for the meal then you’re working it off!” Moe grabbed George and practically dragged him to the back of the café and told him to clean the dishes. Just then, they heard sirens and a voice over a megaphone, “This is the police, everyone put your hands in the air, we are coming in!”
The next thing George knew, police armed with weapons burst through the doors of Moe’s Café and rushed into the back of the restaurant. Moe seemed extremely nervous for some reason and looked as if he was ready to bolt at any second. The police opened a door in the back and discovered an illegal gambling operation. “You’re all under arrest,” stated an officer. Unfortunately, for George, they also arrested him.
After a three-hour explanation to the police, they eventually allowed George to leave. George was dead tired by this time and walked all the way back to his car. He got in and tried to start his car, before realizing that he never found a mechanic to fix his car with all his unfortunate misadventures. He slumped forward bumped his head on the steering wheel blasting the horn. He then was chased back into town by a herd of angry deer where he spent the rest of the night. Thus, was the ending of George’s misadventure at Moe’s Café.
