Jimmy sat down in his favorite booth at Reagan’s Diner on the corner of Pennsylvania and Washington; he liked having a window seat so that he could get a good view of the park on the other side of the avenue. Reagan’s had been around for years, it looked like a typical diner, a small restaurant with a few tables, chairs and a bar lined with defrosted cakes and pies on assorted pedestals. The smell in the air was a swirl of pan fried bacon and freshly roasted coffee beans.

He polished off his hot “cup of joe.” It was his usual: black with two generous shots of whiskey…Irish. He poured more of the lethal concoction into his cup while looking up at his companion…

“Bill, did you see what they did to the menu?”

*Silence*

“BILL! Did you see the menu? It’s different.”

Bill shook his head: “Yes, they put chili peppers next to everything with a side of eggs. I guess that’s supposed to mean it’s spicy…”

Jimmy frowned as he brushed his hand across his salty beard, “We can’t just have good traditional American food anymore, everything has to be multicultural.”

“I read somewhere that pancakes was from Europe,” Bill argued.

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed, “You know what I mean, don’t make it more complicated than it has to be.”

Bill and Jimmy were longtime friends and bachelors, they met at Reagan’s every week to eat, play Sudoku and relive their pasts introspectively …basically a bunch of things they could have easily done alone. Both men grew up in the same neighborhood, they were young in the fifties but they were virtually old for everything else. These days they were too old to work, too old to drive and too old to leave home without the proper hat.

Their waitress approached the table: “How’s your morning going boys?”

Bill glanced passively at the woman… “mmmm No.” He spoke to her as if she was some sort of offering open to his rejection.

She sighed, “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll TELL you what you can get; you can go back into that kitchen and get Patty,” Bill replied.

“William. It’s me, Patricia, I've just had my hair cut,” she said as combed her fingers through her bluntly cut bangs.

Bill widened his eyes and straightened his glasses…

“Christ! First the menu and now my favorite waitress looks like Moe Howard!” “What is this, Vaudeville?!”

“Bill, don’t make such a thing about it; I like it, reminds me of Carole Lombard,” Jimmy said with a reassuring smile.

“Thank you Jimmy, now what are you two in the mood for?”

Jimmy leaned over and re-opened the tri-fold menu…

“We want two of the early bird special, but none of that salsa, you put that on my plate last Sunday and I spent most of the week in the can.”

“He looks a hell of a lot younger though,” said Bill, “when he showed up this morning I barely recognized him.”

“I did notice he was looking a bit younger,” said Patricia.

“Yeah, he’s a lot lighter now that 50 years of his bunk is down the toilet.”

Jimmy sucked his teeth: “Oh come off it! Your jealousy is unbecoming; I've always been better looking and smoother than you, women are drawn to me.”

“Really.” Patty rolled her eyes, “I can see why you would think that, I've been dealing with you for years and sometimes I get so overwhelmed with attraction I can hardly bear it.”

“Yeah…EXACTLY,” Jimmy said while pointing his right index finger at Patricia, “…case and point.”

“Patty! You ever heard of Frank Sinatra?” Jimmy continued.

“Yes”

“AHA! Me too…”

Jimmy flipped over his menu.

“LOOK. I don’t have nothin’ to prove, ANY day of the week I can have whatever woman I want. ANY DAY. Look at that woman over, she can’t stop staring at me. All she needs is one look.” Jimmy wrinkled his forehead and lifted one eyebrow… “And she’ll get the picture.”

He waved his shriveled hand toward a young woman sitting at the bar. She wore a knee length navy blue dress with a fitted canary yellow cardigan. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties and seemed more engrossed in a romantic novel than her uneaten slice of chess pie.

Bill extended his neck and cocked his head to one side: “What are ya gonna do Lothario? You wanna go over there and read her some poetry?!”

Bill laughed, shrugged his shoulders and flailed his arms…

“Oh hello, young lady may I interest you in an exhilarating night of monitoring my blood pressure?”

“Would you like to connect my liver spots?”

“Better yet, can I offer you half of my fortune as a premium member of AARP?!”

“That’s rich.”

“Mock all you want,” said Jimmy, “but the gals at my Walgreens can’t get enough of me!”

Patricia brought out two orders of the breakfast special: a plate of hotcakes, eggs over easy, floppy slices of bacon and hash browns so dry you had to smother them in half a bottle of Heinz to make it somewhat edible. Bill beat his hand against the back of the glass container as if he was summoning the tomatoes from the Dark Ages.

Patricia glanced over at Bills’ plate, “Dear God William, it’s like a murder scene over here.”

“Would either of you like some coffee?”

“No thanks,” Jimmy replied, “you know I like to bring my own.”

Bill put down the bottle of ketchup, “They never refill these things anymore…Why do we even waste our time coming here?”

“I don’t know,” Jimmy pulled a napkin from the dispenser and blew his nose, “I guess this is what we've always done.”

Bill opened up his worn copy of Large Print Sudoku, as Jim read the funnies section of the paper and they both finished their meals.

“It’s your turn to pay,” William said flatly, without looking up from his puzzle, “I took the bill last week and I paid the tip.”

Jimmy stretched his voice curmudgeonly, “Oh I’m sorry honey, I didn't realize we was keepin’ score!”

Jim reached into his pockets: two Q-tips, some used tissues and a coupon from the Penny saver classifieds for 50 cents off of a bottle of Aqua Velva after shave, only because the ladies loved it.

Patty walked back toward the booth…

“How’d you like everything?”

“It was great,” said Jimmy as he crossed his fingers, “…What’s say, I owe you on this one sweetheart?”

Patricia placed her hand on Jim’s back, “Aww James, darling…you’re too charming for words, but I’m afraid the bill’s already been taken care of…”

Pat pulled the receipt from her apron and placed it on the table.

“…but I’ll kindly accept your usual tip of 2 dollars plus a half melted Werther’s Original.”

“Of course dear, I've been trying to finish off that bag of candy for months, couldn't dream of getting there without your help.”

Jimmy dusted off his hat while Bill picked up the receipt. There was a note written on the small piece of paper…

You two are so adorable, my late grandfather comes to mind.

Breakfast is on me!

“Well Jim,” Bill handed him the note, “Now that I think of it, you've always inspired a certain sympathy in women…GRANDPA.”

Jim crushed the receipt in his left hand and looked out the window toward the park, there was a young couple sitting on a bench near the fountains…

“Remember when we were that age? We thought we were gonna live forever.”

He exhaled deeply, “Where did the time go?”

Bill stood up from the table and brushed the bits of potato off of his lap:

“I don’t know Jim, but I plan on sticking around.”

Jimmy couldn't contain his smile, “Same time next week?”

“See you then my friend…and next time dial down the aftershave, you poured it on so thick I could practically taste it in my food!”