"Yes, I guess it is."
"I've seen places like this in movies."
"You can get anything you want," I offered.
"Do they have Romanian smoothies? Or steak tartare?"
"I don't think so. I think most things are cooked here."
"That's okay," she said. "I brought this with me just in case," she said. She pulled out a water bottle, only instead of water it appeared to be filled with blood.
Dixie, in her fifties-diner red-with-white-piping waitress uniform, shimmied her behind as she walked over to the table.
"What's that?" Dixie asked.
"What's that?" Dixie asked.
"Uh ... it's Kool-Aid," I said.
"That doesn't look like Kool-Aid to me."
"It's an energy drink," Stormy tried to explain.
"Well, if you came here for a nutritious meal," Dixie said, "you came to the wrong place. If it's not fried, burnt, or floured, we don't serve it." She chomped her gum and blew a bubble.
"No, we are indulging tonight," I said as Stormy surreptitiously slid her bottle back into her bag.
"Two chocolate malts, please," I said.
"That's all?" she asked.
"Yes. We just had dinner."
Dixie shimmied away, displeased that she didn't have a big order on her hands to increase her chances of a bigger tip.
We both laughed as she placed our order at the counter.
"This is fabulous," Stormy said.
"You think? I've been coming here for years with my best friend. Dixie has been working here since it opened." Stormy flipped through the jukebox songs on our table.
"What is your favorite music?" I asked.
"I like the Skeletons."
"You do? So do I. I don't think they are on there. They only have fifties artists."
"What about Elvis?" she asked.
"Alexander loves him," I noted.
"I know. So do I."
I found a quarter in my pocket and placed it in the jukebox. "Play your favorite," I said. A moment later, "(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear" began to play overhead.
She seemed fascinated by the music and the power of her pushing the button and it playing.
Then I remembered the Sterlings lived by candlelight. Modern technology wasn't something they dealt with every day.