A Diner Full of Flugelhorns

"Is this really necessary, my love?" asked my pampered mother as we parked the car up in front of a diner. She continued her thought process out loud by saying: "I could go for some steak in the city. instead of eating here." She even said it with some distaste.

I politely replied to her: "Yes mother, cause the city is in the next 50 miles from here. Plus, I'm starving."

"Please, darling. I can wait until the next city and also: you need to watch your figure. You are looking a bit chubby as of lately."

Here we go with the underlying insults by my dear mother for the balijmillon time.

Instead of starting another useless argument, I calmly responded: "I haven't eaten anything since we left the hotel. On top of that, I only had a blueberry muffin and some milk. So I'm quite famished at the moment."

"I'm just saying, Felicia cause I want you to be with an established white businessman. Someone like our dear President Ronnie Flugthorn. You know, he used to be a billionaire businessman before being President to the now Divided States of America? I mean, he still is. He is still one established gentleman with a ton of money."

I could have swear I saw some dollar signs in my mother's eyes. That's how she's always been, especially after dad passing away a few years back.

"One that's basically a robot without a heart," I said even rolling my eyes. I even added: "Or wait, he has no heart to begin with, even before his android procedure."

"I'll watch your tone if I were you," my mother said while looking around.

The free of speech was very limited. especially since now that the U.S.A. became more divided for the past 20 years. All thanks to President Flugthorn's reign or what his Flugelhorn cultists like to call it: "the rightful service to the American people". This is now his sixth term (5 forced elections without no opposing party) and even when he died after his first term, he made sure America was going to suffer with everyone's rights, rather people wanted to believe it or not. So much so, he planted his brain and self-consciousness in an android body so we can serve the good American for many years to come. Now he walks and talks like the Tinman from "The Wizard of Oz", only except he's orange on every surface of his body. All dressed up with a tux.

After not responding, my mother continues her suggestions: "You ought to keep to yourself while you are in there. I don't want to deal with those filthy people, even if I have to intervene for your stake."

"You mean the same filthy people who voted for all of this in the first place?" I asked with some resentment. I have had so much resentment for the past 30 years that sometimes I just have to let it go sometimes.

"Felicia..." My mother warned me.

"I'm sure you are still part of that demographic cause I could have swore you voted for this all those years ago."

"Honey, I was young and thought it was for the best."

I went on a rant: "Yet you still shower this President with love and approval. Meanwhile, he goes around separating loved ones and making enemies not only to the world, but one another. They warned you and the rest of these sorry-to-toot-my-own-horns way before the first term, but you all chose not to listen. Now, look what we got! We literally have walls scattered at every state boarder that we even have to pay to get through because of how expensive these walls cost!"

"Enough, Felicia," my mother gave me a second warning.

"So maybe instead of just worrying about the filth in there, how about you take care of that filthy perspective of this so-called glamorous world you and the rest of you lot are living in?"

Three strikes and I'm out cause out came my mother shouting with a stern tone: "I SAID ENOUGH!"

I shut my mouth and mentally rolled my eyes. As much as I love my dear mother, I just get frustrated when she acts all privileged every single day while others have to suffer. If only, she can see through her drunken goggles and see how much the leopards are eating everyone's faces, including her own at times.

I didn't say anything, even after an awkward moment of silence so instead my mother suggested: "Just go in there and get yourself food or whatnot. I'll be out here waiting."

"You sure you don't want anything."

"No, honey. I'll text you if I do."

"Okay, see you in a bit."

I exited the car, which was very needed cause after a heated debate, I needed some fresh air. Before heading those the front door, I even stretched. It's been four hours of driving and I need to stretch my legs after doing so. My mother will probably do the same, even though she doesn't like driving. Thus why she has me on her business trip across the Southern States. I was practically her designated driver. A taxi service if you will. At least she does pay for my time, but still it's hard having conversations with her when her head in up her, oh you know.

The "Righty White" Diner was not the first thing I wanted to get food at but my stomach was practically begging for food. Plus, the last time I checked, there was nothing for a good ten miles. So going to some random diner in the middle of nowhere was the only option for me to get any food and fast. I could already feel myself passing out without the source of food.

I enter the diner and all eyes looked at me. There had to be at least twenty people in that diner alone so it was so busy. So many, dark gold hats and metallic gold jackets. I swear it looks like a frat boy party in there. All the hats and jackets have the infamous Flugelhorn symbol embroidered on the surfaces. Most definitely a fascist and cultist joint, that's for sure. But I have to keep my cool. My stomach was begging for anything at this point.

I next took a seat by the window right in front of mother so I have at least trusty pair of eyes, just in case. Hopefully she isn't on her phone too much. 

The waitress, who was wearing the same color on her apron, came over and ask me if I wanted anything to drink.

I said: "Water is fine."

She gave me a menu and Lord behold, the prices were outrageous. If you thought eggs were expensive, wait until 2044 when you stumble across a simple diner asking for french toast.

The waitress came by and that is when I noticed her nametag: "Candace"

"Here's your water, mad'am," Candace says as she places a nice cold ice of water in front of me.

"Thank you," I replied while seeing looking at the menu. 20 dollars for an omelette is crazy, I tell you.

"Need a moment with the menu?"

"Yes, thank you."

"No problem. Yeller if you need anything."

"Will do."

And like that, I was left with a menu and some water. Still debating what I want with all things to consider. I turned to the window and of course, my mother is on her phone. Probably surfing the web, looking for expensive shoes. 

I rolled my eyes and looked around. Literally everyone here is all Caucasian. Some were even white than me, considering I had a tan just a couple days ago. No other color was out here in the diner, expect those in the kitchen. There were at least three of them in there making the people their food. However, each of them were wearing collars and uncomfortable wristbands.They were forced to wear these after everyone's precious President made the executive for the minorites to wear, regardless if they are from America or overseas. 

It just makes my heart to see this and honestly made me lose my appetite in general. I was so ready to make a stand there, but I am just not cut out for fist fight, cause knowing these Flugelhorns, all of them would beat me to a pulp. Even if my mother had to intervene, I would already get my ass beaten.

Suddenly I heard a roaring sound from outside. That sounds like a motorcycle and sure enough, it was. The motorcyclist along with his bike parked right by my car and mother. He was your typical motorcyclist. Dressed up from head to toe in black with his bike helmet to attire. He turned off this Harley-Davidson (trust me, I know my bikes) and made his way to the entrance. Once there, all eyes including my own, were staring at him as he walked in here all casually. 

The mysterious motorcyclist took off his helmet and I could have sworn the whole diner grasped when they saw a black man standing there in front of us. Not only was he black but he also didn't have a collar around his neck nor have wristbands after taking off his leather jacket. This esteemed, well at least to me, was one who can take on a fight for his right and freedom.