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Waf­fle House

2264 Cheshire Bridge Road, At­lanta, GA 30324 www.waf­fle­ Good choices: For years I never ate in one of th­ese ex­cept for emer­gency pur­poses. But I now go hap­pily and vol­un­tar­ily to the Mid­town one. I only go near the break­fast dishes here. The coun­try ham’s my fave, but the ba­con isn’t bad (skip the sausage), and the eggs are de­cent. Pan­cakes and waf­fles, meh. Hint: the less sur­face area of the food that is ex­posed to the grill’s name­less oint­ment, the bet­ter.

Robert bris­tled. Then, some­one came through the door, mak­ing a lot of clamor as he rushed to take the seat be­side Lee, who greeted him en­thu­si­as­ti­cally.

The man, quite thin in a full-length black rain­coat, sat down. Robert and Janet heard squawk­ing, just as the man re­moved a snowwhite cock­a­too from un­der his coat and set it on the counter. The bird walked in cir­cles, scream­ing, “Any tops in the house? Don’t smother me!”

Lee smiled and con­tin­ued eat­ing his coun­try ham and eggs. The staff paid no at­ten­tion.

The man pulled out a deck of Tarot cards and be­gan shuf­fling them. Just then, a dwarf wear­ing a gun and a tiara pushed his way through the door and shouted, “Party time!” Robert watched, open-mouthed. “I al­ways want pop­corn when I eat here,” Janet said.

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