What can YOU say in six sentences?
The padded booth in the dim restaurant swallowed Sunshine Angel Lewis and she held onto the table to keep from going under.
As the girl with the stick-straight hair took her drink order, Shiney cursed getting old, no longer limber enough to tuck a leg up under her ass to lift herself into a more dignified position, and no, house scotch was not ok, not today, not to celebrate her sixty-something-th birthday even if she was doing it all alone.
In the interim between ordering Glenlivet and receiving her highball glass, Shiney regretted having chosen this fancy dining place instead of driving to the little adobe tucked onto a dusty side street where a five-year-old pinata hung in the corner with cobwebs and no one ever took down the Cinco de Mayo decorations.
They didn't serve high-end scotch, but she liked Corona with lime fine if it cold enough, and she knew she'd have ordered the #7 platter: one enchilada, one chili relleno, and one beef taco, all swimming in beans and rice, of course.
She wrapped both hands around her glass and stopped listening to the specials after the veal, finally ordering the baked roughie though only a fool expected good fish this far from the ocean.
Ordering fish wasn't the only silly thing she'd done today.