text: The diner seems quaint and in decent shape for being out in the middle of nowhere. The old man steps behind the cashier counter and pulls out a double barrell shotgun from behind it and begins loading it.
  
  His face is stern and weathered. It seems he has seen battle in his lifetime, you can't quite tell if it has been WW2 or Vietnam. The man screams out something you can't understand and a woman of about the same age appears from behind a set of doors.
  
  She is morbidly obese and has a huge apron on with spurts of food and liquid stained from use.
  
  "Get this man something to eat." the old man bellows and the woman dissapears behind the double doors. She returns with a large bowl of chili and some saltines. The food opens up your oifactory senses as she sets it at the table in front of you.
  
  Dropping the flashlight  beside you on the seat you sit down and start to open the crackers. The chili smells great but what if you would prefer something else. Should you ask for a menu instead or enjoy their hospitality and chow down.
  
  "Well eat up boy." states the old man. "It's on the house."
  
  He walks around the counter and begins looking out the glass doors of the diner. Looking for a shooter perhaps.
  
  "Why was someone shooting at me?" you ask.
  
  "Eat now and questions later." says the man looking out into the moonlight.
  
  The woman begins to go back to the kitchen but asks you if you like a soda before leaving.
  > You accept the soda
  "Yes, ma'am." you say.
  
  "I'm parched and would love a soda right about now."
  
  The woman gives you a nice smile and disappears behind the doors. The old man begins pacing in front of the doorway mumbling something under his breath.
  
  The bowl of chili looks really good but would go better with a tall glass of your favorite cola. The woman returns with a large pitcher of ice and fizzy soda. She sets down a red 32oz. glass with Coca-Cola inscribed on the side and fills the glass with soda.
  
  You flash her a quick glance of acceptance and swallow the whole thing down. Even small bits of ice slide by tickling your throat.
  
  You slam down the glass and the lady begins laughing in appreciation.
  
  "I love a man with an appetite." she says with a chuckle.
  
  Having said that, you dig into the chili. It is darker and thicker than any you have ever had before. The saltines seem to disappear in the bowl as you shovel spoonful after spoonful into your mouth.
  
  Soon the bowl and the pitcher are both empty and you feel great.
  
  The man grabs his flanel jacket from of a coat rack by the door and goes outside in front of the diner. Swinging the shotgun in the air he screams out something you don't understand.
  
  "Must be some foreign language" you think.
  
  You scan the room for a phone but find nothing.
  
  The diner lady begins to laugh at the old man and walks toward the kitchen entrance. The old man retunrs with a frown on his face and looks toward you. He sets the gun back behind the counter and sits down on the other side of the table you are sitting at and puts his face in his hands as if exhausted.
  
  You can hear the buzzing of the large neon sign out front.