Honest – I just got caught up in the opportunity to write about a guy named Johnny!

John slunk into the seat beside Roberta having taken too long at the egg station – it’s surprising how much falls off a $5.99 all you can eat plate – but he should have been in the crow line, or maybe the fish. Roberta was flushed a slighter shade of red than the grapefruit she was pushing around. It wasn’t a windy day and two of my best friends hadn’t been riding a motorcycle when they arrived which lead me to the conclusion that Roberta’s hair was a result of a quickie, and that they had awakened together probably feeling rancid from last nights party, probably only motivated enough to link up again in the spirit of the moment; throwing a hump together at this hour was as easy as finding a toothbrush if it’s not your own place – I gave them credit for determination. But that’s how I thought later on. At that moment, at that brunch, I was wondering what had become of Johnny’s beloved Jenny, after we separated last night, and why these two here weren’t saying much of anything.

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