Russell had turned the corner diner around. It’s red leather high back booths are the only thing above the white and black checkered floor that remains from his uncle’s place. His clientele had changed a little. But today there’s a special guest. Billie, the former owner when it was Robin’s Slotted Spoon. To Russell, he was uncle Billie.
“Hate the sign in the window! Fish in parts! You serve fish heads! Rolly polly fish heads! What did I do to You? I gave you a diner. And this sign. .. mutilated fish parts.” Uncle Billie was in a good mood.
“Uncle, it’s fun. Almost whole menu is fish now. Sushi is big bucks. A little seaweed, rice, soy, even an old codger like you might like it.”
“Russell, it’s a diner not a trip to Japan! There are old people who ate here forever. They’re not eating raw food!”
As he looks on, several of his customers shuttle in. Several “hi and how are you” get exchanged.
The only thing left is to swallow his pride. Uncle Billie sits down for fish head soup.