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The Mom and Pop and Mom Diner January 3, 2009

Posted by billynorton in Uncategorized.
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-On “Running From My Life”

MPM diner

East Wendover, Utah was once the first stop of the national railway, coming out of Salt Lake City, 120 miles into the desert. Today it is a dying town, and as with all death it smelled of rot and unfulfilled promise while attracting the carrion feeders of society. Sure it was far from the bright centre of the universe, but someone with hope An a decent set of binoculars) could still see a light on the horizon… on a clear day.

Utah is a morally conservative state with restrictive alcohol and gaming laws, high taxes, and an unwritten tolerance of pluralistic marriages. Right across Wendover Avenue is West Wendover Nevada, where the alcohol and gaming laws are as loose as a 50 year old hooker with a taste for cheap whiskey; Taxes are only really paid by people with no concept of mathematical probabilities and a blind eye is turned to the “Chicken Ranch” on the outskirts of town. Any polygamist Mormon that accidentally builds on the wrong side of the state line will be thrown in jail  faster than you can say, ” I Do” three times. So if you are going to sleep with three different women in West Wendover you  had better be paying for the services of at least two of them.

West Wendover Nevada has 5000 residents, 5 casinos, 25 bars, at least 500 unregistered sex trade workers, and one chapel run by an mediocre Elvis tribute artist.

East Wendover Utah has 1200 residents, 1 fleabag motel, 1 diner, 300 men and 1200 women and no single people. The only people left in East Wendover Utah are polygamists and people wanted in Nevada for robberies (to support their gambling addictions).


Wendy and I sat at the Mom and Pop and Mom’s Diner in the desolate East Wendover business park. It was run by a 68 year old Gabriel, the cook was his 55 year old wife Sarah and there were 2 waitresses, Nellie and Ruby (16 and 22 respectively), that were either his daughters or his 2nd and 3rd wives. I learned long ago not to ask too many questions.

Ruby approached the booth, as we sat down on one of the cracked vinyl benches, with our watered down coffee in two unmatched chipped cups.

“Good morn Miss Wendy, Mr. William. I pray your day has gone well.” she said as she placed the coffee in front of us, “The usual for you Miss Wendy? Ok. Mr William?”  Ruby smiled generously. She had taken a shine to us during the week we had been coming here twice a daily. Every day after breakfast she would sit with us and I would tell her stories that had little to do with reality, aside from our names and the inclusion of Olivia.

“Good Morning Miss Ruby, I will have the breakfast special with bacon.” I stated while perusing the menu,  as I did every morning thinking this would be the day when I other something other than what I referred  to as the ” It Killed My Father Special’ (Scrambled Eggs, Bacon, Extra Bacon and toast and butter… extra butter), and every morning Ruby humoured me while  I looked at the menu. She would just write down on her pad what she knew I would order all along.

” And How would you like your eggs this morning sir?”


To say “As Scrambled As…”


To Say: ” Sunny Side Up…”

choice-c To say Something Sort of Random



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