Justin Hollis

I pull up to the diner just in time to catch a parrot holding the door for another parrot.  There’s a pair of deep-sea divers at the counter sipping steaming cups of coffee through their iron visors, and I’d be lying if I don’t say I’m having reservations.  But breakfast’s a-calling and scrambled eggs and flapjacks are spilling off the gridle all over the floor.  I grab a hashbrown and drift across the diner, when a gum-twirling waitress sidles up and stuffs my face with an enormous sausage link.  But was one of the parrots wearing an eyepatch, or was that just a pirate with a parrot on his shoulder?  No sooner do I think than my thumbs are tied to my big toes and I’m tossed overboard, and wouldn’t you know I could now well believe the sun rose for a second time that morning.