There was very little that was good during the year and a half Psycho Mike and I did our little domestic (abuse) dance, but there was one thing we could always agree on: food at the Plaza Cafe. It was a hole in the wall. A small little diner in a sparsely populated shopping plaza (get it now, Plaza Cafe? It’s all coming together!) with three or four booths on one side of the wall and a counter in the back.
I would usually get a piece of pie and cole slaw. No, I wasn’t pregnant. (Now that I think about it, it’s amazing that Mike’s seed never sprouted in my womb. There was one scare though. We bought a pregnancy test and I pissed on it in a bathroom stall at a petting farm. It was negative and we rejoiced by getting a pay-by-the-hour motel room and having more sex.)
They had really good cole slaw there.
I’m a fan of cole slaw. Remember that. It might come in handy some day if you’re ever trying to talk me down from a ledge.
Sometimes I would get a muffin and our favorite waitress would halve it up and throw it on the grill. No one has ever made me a muffin like that since then.
For a very short time, there was a movie rental shop next store to the Plaza called Firehouse Videos. We had a membership and would rent Argento films to watch in my parent’s basement, where we would subsequently start fighting and break up. One fight was because he accused me of CHEATING ON HIM WHILE TAKING MY GED EXAM. Yes, Mike. I tossed my vagina in a vat of penii before entering a crowded classroom at the YWCA. Then I picked it up back up from vagina daycare and re-inserted it, all nice and freshly fucked.
Now I want a grilled-up muffin and I KNOW Alisha and Corey aren’t going to make that happen. Those assholes are too immersed in Degrassi.Tags: Plaza Cafe, vagina, YWCA