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Unread postPosted: Fri Jun 02, 2017 10:09 pm 
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Zone Resident
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Joined: Fri Nov 23, 2007 10:26 pm
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Location: Twilight Zone USA
My Mood: Ecstatic
"Welcome to the Zone Diner," proclaimed the neon sign that resided at the edge of the highway.
Examining the old diner from the comfort of his air conditioned car, the man thought for several moments as to whether to go inside or not. Turning into the parking stall, he strummed his fingers on the steering wheel 3 times before turning off the engine having made his decision to go inside.
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Unread postPosted: Fri Jun 02, 2017 10:11 pm 
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Zone Resident
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Joined: Fri Nov 23, 2007 10:26 pm
Posts: 10160
Location: Twilight Zone USA
My Mood: Ecstatic
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Mr. Rod Serling, sitting at the corner booth.

Submitted for your approval: A commonplace roadside diner. No trip down any of the multitudes of highways and byways would be without one. Providing shelter, rest and subsistence for weary travelers, most often with the added opportunity to purchase a keepsake reminder of their visit. But the menu of this diner offers more than just shakes, burgers, cola and coffee. The special of the day isn't your run of the mill slice of Americana. You see this little diner sits on the crossroads of Things and Ideas. Just off the beaten path and on the edge ... of the Twilight Zone.


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Unread postPosted: Tue Jun 06, 2017 10:00 pm 
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Joined: Fri Nov 23, 2007 10:26 pm
Posts: 10160
Location: Twilight Zone USA
My Mood: Ecstatic
The man in the black Chevy exits his late model coach. His name is Mike Ferris. His attire is, a far too thick for the season, set of gray overalls and on his battle worn feet are freshly shined black combat boots. Deciding to take the 30 paces to the door of the Diner, he opened it to be greeted by the cool blast of air conditioning and the sight of a broad faced man with a wide grin.

The man's name tag identifies him merely as Haley. As to whether this is his first or last name is anyone's guess unless they actually took the time to ask, which most often, no one does. A white cook's hat is forced forward over his fleshy forehead (say that 3 times fast,) as he stands behind the bar-stooled counter wiping it clean with a white towel in clockwise, circular motions.

"Welcome weary stranger, how may I be of service?"



---Thanks Dr. M for all your great help----

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