The waitress took our order
With a smile on her face
And then apparently decided
To desert the human race.
More than half an hour later
We’ve killed a pitcher of beer.
Our senses are still present
Though the help has disappeared.
It’s midnight at the bar,
Then it’s one here at the grill.
Our belly’s good and empty
But our hope is holding still.
We’re waiting on our sandwich
And it’s 2025,
And the chef has just confirmed
That the waitress is alive.
My beard is grey, my hair is gone,
I drool and shift and snore…
Then the waitress comes out smiling
And she says “Five minutes more.”
The Daily Travesty 