Shelby and I decided on Mexican for lunch and walked into a small diner off the highway. Ordering quickly we settled into customary small talk.

The bell above the door rang boldly and in walked a woman. I tapped Shelby’s hand rapidly and motioned with my eyes. She coyly turned her head an inch and her eyes a mile. Seating herself, the elderly woman threw her spiked leather purse aside and patted her purple hair daintily.

My jaw dropped as did Shelby’s. “What the–” I mouthed. She shrugged.

A moment later in walked a man. He appeared to be equally elder as the woman; bearded with a stocky build, he dressed in dirty farm overalls. Glancing around his eyes landed on the most visually interesting person in the joint. The woman turned her head on instinct, looking the new arrival up and down before locking eyes with him. “Are you Jezebel?” The man asked.

“Are you Carl?” Jezebel asked. He nodded and sat down opposite her in the booth. “You look different in your profile picture,” she said with a small, bitter smile.

“So do you,” Carl grumbled, grabbing a menu.

Shelby and I ducked our heads. “Dude,” I whispered to her. “Is this really happening right now?”   

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “But if it is, it’s pretty cool.”

“You wanna eavesdrop?”

“Is that even a question?” She asked. Discreetly, we turned our heads again to watch.  

“So am I to assume that line about loving motorcycles was a lie?” Jezebel slowly unraveled her silverware.

“I to assume the line about liking older men was a lie?” Carl did the same but with far more aggression. “Anything older than you would be dead.”  

“Don’t you know you can’t believe everything you read on the internet?” Jezebel’s words flowed like silk.

“I guess not,” Carl frowned beneath his beard. “By the way, I’m taking back my offer to pay for lunch.”

Jezebel sighed. “Here I thought I finally found the man of my dreams: a rough and tumble go-getter; someone who likes to get his hands dirty.”

“Here I thought I found my dream-girl;” Carl spat back. “A woman who cooks well, takes care of her looks, and above all: knows her manners.”

Jezebel calmly sipped her water. “Chauvinistic pig,”

“Bratty old bat!” Carl’s beard quivered. “Look at your hair. How long did that take you?”

“About the time it takes to make a sandwich,” she batted her eyelashes. “But you hardly have room to complain. Ever heard of a razor? Your hands are covered in dirt and grime; when was the last time you bathed?” The couple glared at each other intensely, spitting fire with cold silence. Suddenly…

“Hey Babe, lets blow this joint.” Carl nodded towards the door.

“I’d love to,” Jezebel cooed, grabbing her purse. With that they sprung from their seats and rushed out the door, hand in hand.

The diner sat in silence. “Shelby,” I whispered, leaning closer to my friend. “Did that just happen?

“I don’t know,” she said. “But it’s pretty cool.” 


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