I made a promise many days ago, and now I will do the part of the promise that involves doing something.
It was a sunny day in ATLANTA, GEORGIA [pause for applause] when Tommy’s 1972 Mercury Bullet High-Life pulled into the parking lot of the Busty Blonde Diner in Pro-bowl, Utah. Tommy, who was the driver I may have forgotten to mention, walked into the diner and sat at a booth. The green vinyl seat was strategically duct taped in a few places, but all-in-all it was no big deal.
The waitress, who was brunette, poured a steamy cup of coffee for him. “Do you need a minute to decide?” she asked. She was, in fact, fairly busty, but she was also a pretty large woman so Tommy didn’t think it really counted (from a marketing standpoint) ((Not because large women are not attractive, but because the extra body fat usually translates into larger breasts. It’s biology or something. I’m not insulting anyone. If anything, it’s a compliment.)).
“No,” Tommy said. “I like babies. I’m totally serious.”
“And what kind of toast?”
The waitress left to put in the order, and Tommy removed his gas mask and set it next to him on the seat. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned.
“Excuse me,” said the woman at the booth behind him. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you like babies, you’re totally serious.”
“Why, yes,” said Tommy. “Yes, I do. My name’s Tommy.”
“I don’t care,” said @brightcaroline.