To his right, thirty feet away, a path to the restroom. Beyond that a swinging door that led to the kitchen, which was sure to have a back exit to the street. From this point forward, any place he entered would need at least two ways out. He eyed the menu. Chicken-fried steak. Deep-fried catfish. French-fried potatoes, home fries, mozzarella sticks, deep fried. A waitress approached. “May I please have a large salad, no dressing, no croutons, extra tomatoes, carrots, and cucumbers?” “Sakes alive, that sure is healthy.” The waitress’s laugh caused her rosy cheeks to jiggle. “Sure you don’t wanna try the meat loaf?” “Just a salad, please. But a big one.” M.D. smiled. “I’m kinda hungry.” “They ain’t that big.” “Can you make it a double?” “You want two of ’em?”
