• A young man stood outside a shabby looking garage. Inside the open garage door, a white van was parked with a pair of scruffy brown boots sticking out from underneath. A few clanks were heard from under the van and the young man frowned. A few tense minutes passed, and then with a loud grunt the boots shot out from underneath the van revealing a large old man, his hands covered in grease. The old man stood up and wiped his hands on the worn blue coveralls before squinting at the young man he now towered over. The young man gave him a nervous smile and the old mechanic snorted.

    “Your brake line been cut. ‘M surprised you didn’t run yourself off the road with your brakes in that condition,” the old mechanic stated and the young man frowned in worry.

    “Can you fix it?” The young man asked and the old mechanic shot him a glare.

    “’Course I can fix it, what do you think I am? Some sort of rookie grease monkey?” The old mechanic snorted in contempt and the young man gave an apologetic smile.

    “Um… so how long do you think it’ll take?” The young man asked and the old mechanic hummed in thought.

    “Maybe four to five hours, might take longer if I can’t find the right kind of tubing.” The old mechanic said and the young man’s frown deepened.

    “Is there a place where I can get a bite to eat?” The young man asked and the old mechanic nodded his head.

    “Yeah, there’s an old café down the road,” the old mechanic said with a wink before pointing down the road. “Just keep walking in that direction and you’ll get there sooner or later.”

    The young man nodded his head and gave the old mechanic a small smile. After double-checking to make sure he had his wallet and any other valuables with him, the young man started walking down the long stretch of abandoned road. The young man walked for an hour, in the hot blazing sun with no cloud in sight, and sighed in relief as a small white building came into view.

    The building didn’t look all that great, a short (though somewhat wide) single story building. The white walls, or at least they were supposed to be white, were covered in layers of dirt and looked more brown than white. Large cracked letters hung above the building’s only door, spelling Moe’s Café and seemed almost threatening with how loose they looked. Old posters covered the windows, blocking the young man’s view inside the building and informing him that they were having a special on dinners.

    Eager to get out of the sun, the young man pushed the door opened and stepped inside quickly. Sadly, though, the inside was even hotter than the outside and the soft whir of multiple fans alerted the young man to the fact that this restaurant did not own an AC. Frowning at the sudden increase of heat, the young man swept his eyes across the room and felt his frown deepen.

    Instead of having rectangular tables and booths like most restaurants, this one had circular tables and chairs laid out in what appeared to be a random manner. Far in the back, an old juke box played some old Beatles song and in the corner across of it a large brown-black-white German shepherd laid on the ground lazily watching the young man. There were a few other customers in the restaurant, an elderly couple sitting on the bar stool and steady ignoring the young man. There was another group of people sitting in the corner closet to the windows and they had glanced briefly at him.

    With a frown, the young man sat down on a table close to the wall covered in pictures. Grabbing the menu and quickly flipping through it, the young man felt his eyes drawn towards the slightly old lady heading towards him. She was wearing an old fashion waitress uniform, meaning a short sleeved pink dress and a white apron. Over her left breast was a small name tag with the name ‘Blanche’ written on it. Blanche wasn’t really all that old, maybe in her forties or mid-forties, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail with grey streaks in it, and her face covered in wrinkles from laughter and smiles. Blanche glanced at him before pulling out a white note pad and black pen from her apron pocket and lazily stared at him.

    “So what do you want?” Blanche asked and the young man frowned at her abrupt tone.

    “Um… I’ll have the steak.” The young man answered and Blanche nodded before leaving.

    The young man frowned as he watched Blanche walk towards the kitchen; she hadn’t even bothered to ask how he would have liked his steak. Or what he would have liked to drink. The young man watched as Blanche talked briefly to what appeared to be the chef of this place. He was a tall man with large muscles. He wore a tight white shirt and a white apron. His hair, black turning grey, was cut in a short buzz cut and his eyes narrowed with a distrustful look in them. His face was also littered with wrinkles, except his one seemed to be focused around the deep frown on his face that the young man felt was always there. The chef glanced at him before turning to do his work and the young man felt his eyes drawn to the pictures on the wall.

    One of the pictures showed a younger looking Blanche and the chef, they were at a beach and standing between them was a cheerful looking boy, who was flashing the camera a victory sign. Another one showed the boy again, this time it looked like he hadn’t even realized that he was being photographed, the boy was busy kicking a soccer ball with an intense focus in his eyes. Another showed the same boy again, but much older, he was wearing a red and gold graduation gown and Blanche and the chief stood by his side proudly and he held a diploma above his head.

    “That’s my son there. Moe was so proud the day he graduated, bought him his own car to show it.” Blanche said and the young man jumped in surprise.

    “So where is he now?” The young man asked and Blanche gave a bittersweet smile.

    “He’s at college right now, wants to major in business just like I did, and even picked the same college I went to.” Blanche answered and the young man smiled.

    “Well here’s your food, enjoy.” Blanche said before placing a plateful of food in front of the young man.

    The young man blinked in surprise again. The plate was filled with his favorite food. A juicy looking steak with brown gravy, white mashed potatoes, and fresh corn on the cob; tenderly cutting the steak open the young man was surprised to find the steak cooked well done, just like he liked it. Smiling at the pleasant surprise, the young man dug in and felt his smile grow even more at the cup filled with root beer placed on the edge of the table. About half an hour later the young man sat back with a sigh, Blanche who had come over to collect his dishes, shot him a cocky smile.

    “So how did you like it?” Blanche asked and the young man’s smile grew even wider.

    “It was great Mom, just like I remembered it.” The young man replied with a large smile.

    “I’m glad you liked it. Now it’s time for dessert.” Blanche declared and it was like a switch was suddenly flipped.

    The other customers, who had been up till this point quietly eating their food, suddenly stood up and rushed to his table; while at the same time the doors to the kitchen swung open and Moe came walking out. In Moe’s arms was a large chocolate cake with twenty one candles twinkling on its edges. Moe placed the cake in front of the young man and stepped back with a large smile. Together, with an uncanny synchronization, they all started singing a song we all know too well. At the end of the song the young man had to quickly wipe his eyes before giving them all a blinding smile and blowing out the candles. A loud cheer went up and the cake was eagerly whisked away, as the young’s man childhood friends tried to grab a piece. Blanche smiled at her son and gave him a gentle hug.

    “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Blanche asked.

    “I kind of thought that you forgot what today was,” the young man admitted and Moe snorted.

    “As if I could forget the day the little hurricane of piss and poop that called itself my son came into my life,” Moe said and they all laughed.

    “We’ll never forget your birthday sweetie. Happy birthday Sam.” Blanche said while giving her son another hug, which made everybody there say ‘aw’ much to Sam’s embarrassment. Thankfully Sam didn’t have to spend too much time with his mom and her ‘awkward’ moments since his friends grabbed him and dragged him a large pile of presents that they had somehow managed to hide from him. Moe and Blanche stood next to each other, watching as their son reverted from the twenty year old man he had become to the seven year old son they remembered, and they couldn’t help but chuckle. Blanche raised a camera, and with a precision that only mothers could have, she snapped a picture at the same time someone had smashed a handful of cake into her son’s face. This one was going on the wall.