Tales from the City: Ernie's Diner
My name is Daniel Archer. I am an ex-police officer from a small southern town. I moved to the city after leaving the force. I live in an apartment that is just around the corner from Ernie's Diner I've been going Ernie's for about three years now. I sit in the same booth, the one in the back corner, usually working on a crossword puzzle or something like that. The people there got to know me on a first name basis. Hell, I'm such a regular that sometimes I get to eat on the house. If I don't have anything of great earth shattering importance to do, I hang around just to walk my favorite waitress home. (We live in the same apartment building, which is just around the corner.) Her name is Elizabeth, she has shoulder length chestnut hair, creamy skin and brown eyes I get lost in every time I look into them. She is the most beautiful woman I know, and far out of my league. (I'm a realist. God may have granted me size, some say I'm built like the entire front line of a football team, but not looks. To me, my face could stop a truck).
Last Friday, it was just Elizabeth, Ernie the cook and myself at closing time. Elizabeth came by my table to tell me that they would be about ten more minutes and she would be ready to go. I sat back at my usual table, finishing up the crossword, when I heard the bell at the door jingle.
"Sorry, but we're closed" I heard Elizabeth tell the person at the door.
"Don't want no food. Give me your fuckin' money, NOW!"
I heard Elizabeth scream as the thug pulled out a gun. I heard him pull the pump action back on a shotgun. Ernie came around the corner ready to charge the thug.
"Don't be no hero man. Make another move and I will blow your fuckin' head off."
I could feel the tension rising in the diner. Well, where God may have granted me size, at times he also granted me enormous amounts of stupidity wrapped up in curiosity. Wouldn't you know it? This was one of those times. I got up from my crossword puzzle and walked around the corner to see what was going on.
"Who the fuck are you?" The thug growled.
"Who, me?"
"I don't see no one else asshole. Yeah You! Fuck that. Gimme your wallet and watch."
"Sorry, I can't do that. You didn't say please."
"Say what? You gotta be the dumbest motherfucker I ever met. Don't you see I got a gun?"
"Yes, I see the gun, but you're wrong on one account. We never met. You're just waving a gun in my face and really starting to piss me off."
"You are getting pissed? I got the gun here asshole. You should be scared!"
"I would be if I thought you knew how to use it."
"Okay asshole, here it comes."
He raised the shotgun and pointed it at my direction. He pulled the trigger, and nothing. The dumb bastard forgot to take the safety off. He had a puzzled look on his face as he pulled the gun away to check it. I charged him, yelling as I ran. I hit him with my shoulder, knocking him to the ground. I grabbed the gun, took the safety off and pointed it directly at his head.