The Posthumous Steakhouse Dinner

“Before you take our order, I’ve gotta tell you this story,” I told the blonde middle aged server. “We almost just died.” She put down her notepad as I glanced over at my parents.

“I was turning into Busey off of Lincoln and all of a sudden the steering wheel locks up, while cars are driving– approaching from the other side. We managed to pull to the side of the road and were fine and everything, but can you imagine?” I heard my words accelerate and clash into one another, desperately trying to convey myself to this empty-eyed, pony tailed woman. “The steering wheel could’ve locked up anytime before that– anytime on the highway, anytime before we got home. We could be dining in Heaven right now.”

“Ah, well. We’re glad to have you with us,” she replied with a smile. Dad picked the large beer over the small. I ordered my steak and grilled shrimp, and cleared the plate. Mom got sweet potato with everything on it when she usually has it plain.

Bread and butter never tasted so good. I only gave her a 10% tip.

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