Tales from WannaBea Farm

The truck driver, a regular that stopped in every other day, was just finishing up his late breakfast, and leaning back in his booth, surveyed the café. It was a quiet time, between the breakfast and lunch rushes. My grandfather, Dean, was sitting in the front booth, typing up today’s lunch menu on an old fashioned typewriter that looked to be as old as he was. This was his daily routine as he shopped early every morning for the freshest vegetables and built his lunch menus around them. His was the only café in town that did that, but he wanted to serve only the best. He even raised his own chickens and eggs, but of course that was before the government stepped in and decided that stale eggs and tortured chickens were better for the people.

The trucker, George, continued to look around as he sipped his coffee. There was an old cowboy sitting on one of the bar stools near the side door, along with a waitress waiting to go on duty, two business men in suits sitting at one of the back tables and a sunburned farmer with his grandson in another booth waiting for their order.

Ruby, the waitress, was pouring coffee for the two business men as George stood up, stretched, picked up his ticket and strolled towards the cash register. As he stopped to say a few words with Dean he noticed a black, official looking car pull into the parking lot and recognizing it, he immediately yelled, “Scratch”, as he spun around and ran towards the counter.

The old cowboy nearly fell trying to get around his end of the counter and ran into the cook as she came barreling out of the kitchen. They just bounced off of each other. Ruby also spun around, pouring coffee everywhere as the farmer bumped into her as he was trying get to the counter. As he stopped to steady her, his grandson dashed around them, just ahead of the two business men and ran into the off duty waitress as they all tried to reach the counter. It was a Keystone Kops moment.

Dean was at the entrance, ready to stall the man in the black car, who was making his way towards the door as George, bypassing the ends of the counter, where the cook and the cowboy were still trying to get past each other at one end and Ruby, the farmer and everybody else were blocking the other end, vaulted over the counter and bending down, reached under the counter, grabbed a box and dashed for the side door, pushing the cook and the cowboy out of the way as he passed.

The side door slammed shut behind George just as the front door opened and Dean stepped in front of the man from the black car, greeting him like a long lost relative, effectively blocking him while Ruby and the customers quickly resumed their seats and tried to look innocent.

Be sure to look for the conclusion of “Scratch” in next weeks edition of the Buffalo Press.