My favourite.

Sometimes this place feels like a kareoke bar that plays the same song six times over before the night is through.

I can count the hours passing by substituting cigarettes for numbers. 

Yes, I'm smoking again.

There was an old man who came into work yesterday and ordered the chicken pasta dinner with a glass of white. He stopped eating only a few bites into it and he dissappeared into a mist of senility. Nothing remained save for the beard of cheese sauce around his mouth. 

At least he paid this time. The night before, he actually removed his body as well as his mind, thus making for the senior style dine-n-dash: Pretend like you just woke up and can't remember where you are, then leave. The funny thing is, he's probably one of my favourite customers...AND HE'S SITTING AT THE TABLE IN FRONT OF ME?! He's sneaky like rat.