There is much noise being made early this morning (St. Patrick's day revelers?) and so I get myself together early and go and have breakfast and coffee at an all night diner I patronize. The woman who is always there is named Belle Star. It is a very small place, and she manages to both wait on the customers and prepare the food. Most of the words she says are f**k, whore, and motherf**ker. She isn't old (30's?), and I believe is the daughter of the owner. She knows I hate pie, and always tells me what kind they have as soon as I walk in.

"Got f**kin' cherry today, Jimenez! Sold my last slice of peach to that motherf**ker." she points to a fat man in a booth in the corner.
"How are you miss Belle Star?"
"I'm a goddamn mess." She always says she's a goddamn mess. I'm convinced she hates men, but I think she is okay with me. Maybe because she knows I once killed one.

Today is a double whammy. That is what I call the morning when they pick up both the garbage and the recycling. This morning, somebody dumped my recycling onto the alley and stole my bin. I relate this unfortunate situation to Belle Star.

"Jimenez, your life is a neverending s**tstorm," she says. "If I see that motherf**cker around, I'll grab it and give the f**ker back to you. Goddamn neighborhood gone to s**t. Tell you what Jimenez, I'll give you a f**kin' slice of cherry on the goddamn house, you sad motherf**ker. Eye of the motherf**kin' s**tstorm. A goddamn break for you you sad motherf**ker." I'm not sure if this is generosity. I refuse the pie. "You motherf**ker," she says, and she winks at me. It is an awkward wink, though I think she's worked hard on it.

The food is terrible, as always. I don't know why I keep going back.