"nah...it's my fault who wanted you to eat something...ehm..."good" " she told him and she slapped him with the dirty cloth that had for cleaning the tables. "And the next time you will touch me I'll cut you in peaces. Am I clear?" she told him with a devilish smile at first and then laughed normally by his scared expression.

"Poor Bam...I am joking, here is your bread..erm...your pancakes"

John Gato was crusing through Detroits streets when he happened to come across his bosses place.

"Awesome place you have here Boss. Whats the special today"

Kagome walks in the diner and jumps over the coffee and bacon grease stains on the floor. Once she gets to the counter she orders her food.

"Hello. Can I have a cup of coffee to go and a glazed donut? If you have it, that is..."

Gwarble had heard nothing but bad news about Anselmo's diner in Detroit, but he was obligated to try it. He invited Anselmo over for a celebratory beverage in the HQ when they had completed their move to Philadelphia and one thing had led to another. No, not that...we hadn't invited Colin specifically to avoid any of that hankpanky. Instead, an inebrated Anselmo had encouraged Gwarble to visit his joint when he was next in town and despite Gwarble's best efforts he had been pinned down.

"Right Anselmo, what sort of thing can I expect from your diner? Preferably not food poisoning." Anselmo smiled at the joke. Gwarble hadn't been joking. There was an awkward silence. Gwarble stared at the ground. Anselmo pretended to have something in his eye. Gwarble coughed. Anselmo scuffed his feet. This had been a bad idea, it was obvious to both of them.

"Maybe, I should...you know..." Gwarble began, but before he could finish the sentence Anselmo burst into tears. Kagome14 asked for a cup of coffee to go and a glazed donut. Gwarble sighed to himself.

Clifford bursts in the door, soaking wet from the wild weather outside.

Wow. Interesting place you got here. He says while holding his breath at the stench of rodents and old eggs

I'll just take a cup of coffee, if thats Ok? Just looking to stay out that rain for a bit.

Think i'll just leave the coffee, i've got business to attend to.

Clfiford walks out the door mumbling something about it being quicker to go and pick some coffee beans and make it himself.

Blair sees the Godfather Gwarble enter the place and hides herself behind the kitchen bench. She slowly takes a sneaky look to see what's happening out there and while Gwarble is talking with her Boss Anselmo, a customer walks in the shop. He quitely takes a place on a table close to Gwarble's  table and he waits patiently for her.

"You can wait all you want friend" she thinks and takes another sneaky look. She only can see Gwarble's buck but he knows that position of him and as Anselmo burst into tears she hides herself behind the bench again. The customer still waiting.

When she hears the door's bell sure that Gwarble was out of the place she walks out of the kitchen to serve finally that customer but she just comes face to face with Gwarble.

Much like Godfather Gwarble, OscarTheGrouch had heard nothing but bad about the late Don Anselmo's diner which is what drew him to the place. He stepped inside and examined the filthy and unkept interior of the place. Flies swarmed around plates of inedible-looking food as Oscar salivated. He slid his trash can over to the counter and glanced over at the pretty young waitress BlairWaldorf. He forwns and wrinkles his nose at her

Too pretty for me. Any ass-ugly waitresses around that can serve me some of this slop ya serve at this dump?

That day it was very quiet in Anselmo's diner. For the first time she had a little time to clean-somehow- the shop and make a tasteful coffee for the customers. As she was cleaning for the first time the glasses she heard the characteristic door's bell and she looked at the entrance. Blair saw a tall man sitting on a table and looking at her with a weird expression on his face.She smiled welcoming and she walked all the way to his table with extra grace.

"Hello sir, how can I help you" she asked smiling again and waiting for his answer.

Waits for a watress or waitor to come over and serve him as he sits there reading his newspaper.

I'm waiting over here!

Hurry! I'm losing my patience.

Dr_Scrote struggles to get himself and his sack through the door of the Diner, and after a little assistance from Blair, he smiles and walks over to the counter.

"Ah good morning my dear, do you have anything to drink? I`m not fussy, a mug of dishwater will do, two sugars please  and a left over cucumber stalk. That`ll do nicely"

Scrote then manouvers himself aside Oscar, who by now is bobbing up and down in his trashcan so violently he makes contact with Scrotes bag.

As Scrote writhes around in front of the counter, Blair offers him the mug of dishwater. Oscar by now is bouncing between Scrote and the counter  as his trashcan reaches a crescendo, bludgeoning the now gigantic sack.

Scrote finally gets to his feet accepting the mug as he walks unceremoniously to a nearby table in order to offer his appendage a little protection.......

Having passed out face-down in his breakfast some time ago, Bammy had gradually slid sideways off his stool and now lay prostate on the floor, the side of his head firmly attached to the linoleum by a sticky patch of syrup that had begun to ferment and turn green. He would have continued to lie there for some time too, but was rudely brought back into the realm of the concious by a firm and swift kick to the chest.

Unsure quite what to make of the hulking figure looming over him, he unsteadily got to his feet. His tormentor was not what one would call attractive, in no small part to his lack of teeth. Whoever he was though, Bam did not recognise him. And with that, the interloper simply turned on his heels and left.

Picking a baked bean from the deepest recesses of his nostril, he glances around the diner and realises that he must have been comatose for some time. The ugly fellow that had been doing the cooking (in the loosest possible sense of the word) was nowhere to be seen, and a number of new patrons seemed to have appeared. Still, at least they'd let him sleep.

Urgh, Blair, how long have I been lying over there?

He jams his little finger into his ear to remove what he can only assume is mustard, judging by the colour of the substance on it's tip upon removal.

And who was that ugly fucker? I reckon he's broken one of my ribs.