Please push the waiting man into a corner to make room for another, any corner will do yes any man at that. And while you’re at it please bring me a sentence from the Butcher he takes so long these days but delivers it all when he comes so I guess that makes it alright.

Can’t you see I need that order? So many customers waiting in line and the shout shout they all shout and if peace is for the patient then I am weary of the wait can’t you stand here a minute for a minute for me?

In the fast waning darkness the waitress trips on her skirt, grabs hold of a man by the front of his shirt and says “Why can’t you leave? Why won’t you all leave and leave me alone?”

Ah here comes the Butcher he knows what I want he knows how I like it and won’t keep me waiting. For long that is. His hair hangs in ropes just down to his shoulders, dark long silky hair I won’t ever touch.

“Shall I take care of them Miss?” he grins down at me “Take care of them quickly, you won’t notice a thing” and I twist and I smile, squirm, shift and then shout “I know you mean well and would not let me down, but what would I do without these men around? These men who wait long for nothing I have so I give them a purpose and for that they pay me.”

“It’s not a purpose you sell” the dark-haired man replied, “but a pause to end an insatiable lie.” I know he means well, that dark-headed man, though his stains sometimes speak of incalculable plans.

I turn to the waitress stuck between two red heads, she sucks in her gut and lifts up her pen smiling broadly for them but not them alone, for how many of us does this waiting room own?