Luke's Diner, March 13 (Thursday)
So Yitzhak had been contemplating an attempted staring contest with those tacky angel statues, or maybe covering one of them with sequins, but it kind of seemed like a futile gesture in the end. The staring, anyway. The sequins . . . well, he just couldn't be bothered to care that much about a statue's fashion sense. And then he'd heard the radio announcement yesterday and -- very much no.
On top of all that, all of his staff had stayed home today because of the announcement, which made Yitzhak even more sullen than usual, which meant that his already incredibly shaky cooking skills had quite possibly crossed the line into flat-out biohazardous.
If you came into the diner today, all you'd get was coffee. And toast. And maybe instant mashed potatoes. And for that, you'd get a dish of butter pats, hot water, a bowl, and a packet of flakes. Honestly, it was probably better that way.
Luke's is, to put it very, very generously, open.
[OOC: And no OCD today! ZOMG!]
On top of all that, all of his staff had stayed home today because of the announcement, which made Yitzhak even more sullen than usual, which meant that his already incredibly shaky cooking skills had quite possibly crossed the line into flat-out biohazardous.
If you came into the diner today, all you'd get was coffee. And toast. And maybe instant mashed potatoes. And for that, you'd get a dish of butter pats, hot water, a bowl, and a packet of flakes. Honestly, it was probably better that way.
Luke's is, to put it very, very generously, open.
[OOC: And no OCD today! ZOMG!]