Pancakes in Hell
Bob and I went to dinner at the Halfmoon Diner tonight, where we usually go for a quick bite. It’s good food, good service, and very predictable. Great onion rings. But, this is not a review of the Halfmoon Diner.
Rather, it is a review of an observation we made this evening, as we were leaving the diner.
At the table next to us, a woman and a man who appeared to be her son were seated. I overheard them order, and was able to ascertain that she was indeed his mother. He appeared to be around 25-30 years of age. Nothing out of the ordinary – everything seemed perfectly normal. She ordered a cup of hot tea.
As we were collecting our belongings in preparation to leave, I saw that their order had arrived. The mother had ordered a tuna sandwich (I think), and the son had ordered pancakes and a grape juice. So far, not strange. THEN.
I watch as the mother pulls the son’s plate towards her, butter in hand. She proceeds to butter the pancakes. I start moving very s-l-o-w-l-y out of the booth, in order to see if what I thought was going to happen would happen. It did.
Mother then proceeded to CUT THE MAN’S PANCAKES, AND PASS THE PLATE BACK TO HIM. He started eating, as if everything was perfectly a-ok.
Oh, Oedipus! Sigmund Freud on line 2 for you…