After a surprisingly good breakfast in the diner attached to the motel, Yolanda was in a slightly better mood. The clerk gave us directions to a*****e on the outskirts of the town and Yolanda bought some more gin and a carton of Pall Mall cigarettes. Since she wanted to drink, she let me drive her car and I drove us the Honey Beach, California. Outside of a diner a block from the pristine beach, she made a few phone calls from the pay phone while I went inside to grab lunch. I was using the last of my French fries to wipe the last of the brown gravy from my plate when she finally came in. I hate ketchup; always have so I always get brown gravy for my French fries. She was irritated that I had not ordered for her but I reminded her, I don't know what she liked to eat.
"s**t! Special of the
