Breakfast

I went to breakfast with my married friends this morning. They're like the little brother and sister that I never wanted. I called them after sleeping for approximately 1 1/2 hours of sleep, because those mornings call for large, greasy, disgusting breakfasts with as many forms of starch as possible.

First, the waitress wants to know how to split the bill.
"We're together," Wife says to her.
"And you're alone?" the waitress says, pointing to me.
Husband starts to cackle.
"Yeah."
She walks away.
"Yeah, of course, I'm alone," I say to her retreating back. "Alone again. JUST LIKE ALWAYS!!!"
"Bitch."

She comes back to take the order. Husband just had his wisdom teeth pulled out and he's been on Vicodin for three days. He's a total mess. He's been watching Little People, Big World and crying during every episode.
He orders a Eggs San Chez, which makes me giggle, because I'm really a twelve-year-old boy.
Then she asks, "Do you want toast with that?"
He thinks for approximately one minute. I'm mentally singing the Jeopardy theme song.
"Ummm, no."
I start to order when his wife asks him if he wants a biscuit instead.
"What's a biscuit?" he says.
I look at him. "What's a biscuit? Are you serious?"
"What is a biscuit?" he says again. He's starting to get angry. "What IS it? What's a biscuit?"
His wife and and I look at each other. I'm beginning to wonder if this is a quiz. Or if he finally snapped.
She looks at the waitress and tells her to bring him a biscuit.
I look at husband. "A biscuit is a very young man whom I take home in order to molest, dear."
"Oh, okay." That answer seemed to satisfy him.

Later:
"Are you crying?" Wife asks.
"No," says Husband.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I ask.
"I'm very vulnerable right now."
"Were the eggs that bad? Or are you crying about Matt dealing with his kids and teaching them how to get along in that big world?"
Sniffle. "Shut up."
"Just eat your biscuit, honey."