a snid bit of my story

Big Moe’s Diner
Stepping into the diner a myriad of scents barraged my nostrils, the most prominent of which smelled like a cross between my car after bussing soggy soccer players around all Saturday and canned chili. How very appetizing, I thought. My sarcasm never takes a rest. That mechanic had better be quick at what he does. A woman in a crisp, clean apron and spotted dress came bustling up, “Afternoon honey, just you then is it?” Not waiting for an answer she turned and led me away, then placed a menu in a booth right across from the bar. “Will this do for ya?” I nodded, while noting her smeared mascara, and slid into my seat. “When you’re ready to order just flag me down, my names Beth, by the way,” she sniffed and scurried off across the room.
Fiddling my hands, restless to get on my way, I bumped against something sticky on the bottom of the table. I jerked away, but a thick sticky string accompanied my shirt sleeve. Swallowing back the bile rising in my throat, I franticly tried rubbing it off on another part of the table’s underside. No way, I thought, more gum. Bending over I looked up, horrified at what spanned before me. Not a single bit of table could be seen. It must have taken centuries for the table to acquire the gooey monster that lurked before me. I gaped in awe, wondering just how many people contributed to this sickly work of art that my right arm was currently plastered to.
I ripped my arm away from the ABC gunk and examined the damage done to my precious jacket. I released a groan; I couldn’t help but feel a little teary eyed. First my car went berserk, and then the table decided to share some of its colorful masterpiece with my favorite jacket!
Something in the corner distracted me from my self-pitying gripes. What the heck was that dog doing? I didn’t even know if that thing was a dog. It looked more like a hairy rhino had, had an unfortunate run in with an electrical plug. Its fur was sticking half a foot out in every direction, but stranger yet, it appeared to be doing the Macarena to ‘The Wild Thing.’ I gazed in shocked wonder at the canine performer, my jacket long forgotten, when as unexpectedly as he’d appeared; the dog vanished at the tinkling of a bell.
Looking around I spotted two little boys, around 11 years of age, had entered the diner, and were headed straight toward me. The sight of them made my heart ache. Caked in mud up to their knees, they struggled with something in their arms; they smelled as though they’d survived an encounter with a family of skunks.
“Are those my little devils I heard come in?” someone called from the back. The two boys erupted in giggles as a man emerged from behind the counter. I swear I was staring at Jabba the Hutt himself, but a little less green and slimy. Dressed in dirty tan slacks and a worn out white t-shirt, a huge welcoming grin spread across his face as he pulled the boys into a giant bear hug.
“Moe, you’ll squash her!” they screeched, struggling to escape his grasp, while attempting to maintain a hold on their bundle that had come alive upon contact. A black fury head emerged from the mass of flailing limbs. Instantly I knew why the boys smelled like the victims of a skunk attack. The black and white hairball sprinted across the room, with the kids chasing after her, around and around they went…then silence ensued. Moe watched in bewildered wonder, the boys stood panting, and I made my escape. I was not going to stay in that decrepit place any longer with a skunk on the loose.
I moved swiftly towards the door, scanning everywhere for the smelly perfume blaster. Pushing against the glass, freedom would soon be mine, but as the door swung open, a black flash streaked past, spraying a putrid mess behind it.The door slammed shut behind me and I was left dripping in stink, trying to determine what my next move should be. Looking over my shoulder I saw both the boys --who I’d decided must be fraternal twins-- walk over to the booth I had, up until this point, been occupying. They each reached into their mouths and pulled out a piece of green goo which they then preceded to cement to the table’s underside with the rest of the gag-worthy mess.
and the story continues...