Bergen Breakfast

For well over thirty years I have been getting my breakfast nearly every day in Ma Kelly's Greasy Spoon before my sawmill shift. Weekends too when I have business in my workplace's vicinity. When I miss a day Ma, a Viet who owns the joint with her cook husband, asks me, "Where you eat when you not here? Tim Horton? McDonald? Gas station like everybody do?"

"Guilty on all counts Ma. Every once in a while I like to have a look at someone else's ass before I go to work," I told her.

"Hindoo ass all those place," she sneered. "Why you look at that? That what you like Beer? Hindoo ass. Vietnamese ass not good enough for you sometime?"

"I'm a man Ma. You know what men are like. If there was pussy on Mars we would have landed there and fucked everything in sight decades ago," I explained.

"You pig. That what you are. Fuck Martian. Dog. Everything."

She got up from the chair across from me and made her way to the kitchen and back with my hot as her ass breakfast. After she put it down she asked, "You know any good horse race Hasting this year?"

"Bergen won a maiden special at Gulf Stream last weekend. BC bred by Rosberg. Beat some fucking good ones too. If it ships back up here you might want consider backing it with a month or two of your tips."

She wrote the name down. "Horse win you forget everything I say bad this morning."