Eva was a maniac when it came to her garden, working for hours without taking a break. She often forgot to eat and was looking ganglier than Olive Oyl. Most folks got exhausted just looking at her, and hungry, too. Out of the blue one evening Jim stopped by the garden and invited her to join him for dinner. He said he knew a place close by that made the best salads in town and that she was in for a real treat.
When they rolled into the parking lot at Buffy’s she gave Jim a look. Buffy’s, known to the locals as BFE’s, was the biggest dive bar in the north county and had virtually no curb appeal. It may have been the only bar around for miles and close to the Farm, but every time Eva drove past the place she saw the same row of cars lined up as early as 9am. Don’t judge a book by its cover, goes the line, but in Eva’s eyes there were no surprises here.
The place was a total dump outside and in, and Eva had her nose up in the air as they walked through the front door. She snickered smugly as she slid into the booth in a dark corner with Jim, seats striped with duct tape patches and a sticky sheen on the table. The appetizer menu sitting between the salt & pepper shakers offered gizzards and corn dogs, critically pointed out by Eva, and full menus were soon brought to their table by Barb, one of the proprietors.
“Well don’t you two look adorable tonight! What can I get ya for a drink?” she asked, bright-eyed. “How about a beer? Do ya want beer? Or maybe some wine, or just water? We have Diet Flat Water and OkieDokee on tap, if that’s your kinda thing.”
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