The Journey Diner by Mr. E
Author‘s Note:
Ever have that idea that gnaws at your head until you write it? Well, I have that idea. It won’t go away. After really enjoying TheRunawayGuy’s recent Overcooked Let’s Play (or at least the first couple episodes), I noted that I really liked the way they had a codeword. More precisely, the way they called a burger with nothing on it a ‘meat bun’. I found out that there’s a name for that, it’s called Hash House Lingo (click the arrow for the link) [1]. This story came out of it.
It’s like half advice column and half story. It’s probably in bad taste, and most likely inaccurate, but I’ve been struggling with this a little myself. I haven’t made it public, but I very much have. I’ll be updating this page when I think of new ideas to test, or you readers give it to me. Happy pride month I suppose.
With that note, let’s get started.
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On a long and lonesome highway, somewhat of a backroad, there stands a wooden diner. It‘s one of the only things around for miles. The neon sign flickers, hanging onto life that it once had. It currently reads,”The Journey Diner.” Though the sign is faded, the neon flickering, it hangs on.
This diner is very old. Nobody quite knows how long it’s been there, but most do know that it’s been run by the same guy for heaven knows how long. His name is Richard, though he prefers to go by Dick. His grey, thinning hair, and blue eyes that would wander. He enjoyed the job.
Nothing else is around, yet people would come to it for a solitary reason.
It gave advice.
During third shift, from 7 PM to around midnight, the owner would make the rounds. He’d pour the drinks at the bar, and take a few orders. He’d generally rattle them off to the cooks and waiters still awake in the back, in his own peculiar way.
Then, he’d strike up a chat with the patrons at the bar, giving advice, pouring drinks. He had a certain reputation among people around.
One night, Dick is cleaning out the glass cups, a small sample size of patrons are eating at the tables. They’d ordered the burgers, the omelettes, and generally just had a look at The Journey Diner’s small but reputable menu.
Then, a man walks in, which makes the welcome bell give a labored ring, he surveys his surroundings. The wall of bottles resting on shelves behind Dick, the wooden bar with a select few patrons sitting on barstools. Some had been there since the shift started.
However, something was off about this new patron. Dick didn’t recognize him, which seemed ridiculous, because he knew everyone. In addition, this man was wearing eyeliner, and had his brown hair grown out long and wavy. If Dick had to guess, he’d almost say he appeared feminine.
The man comes and sits at the next open barstool, giving it a quick spin.
”Is this The Journey Diner I’ve heard about?” the man asks, picking up a menu that was left on the bar from earlier today.
”The one and only,” Dick says in an aged, yet matured voice, with a twinge of humor.“So, what would you want to drink?”
The man takes a quick look.“Eh, whatever, I’m going to need some drinks to share this. Get me a Zinfandel.“
”Ice?” Dick asks, putting down the cup he’s cleaning, and getting out a wine glass from below the top counter of the bar.
”Sure, whatever,” the man says.
Dick mumbles to himself,”Alright, a fruit splash on the rocks.”
After having his blue eyes wander, he finds what he’s looking for and gets it down.
Pouring some Zinfandel for the guest, Dick turns to him.”So, I presume you‘re here to talk with me?”
The man looks at Dick with a surprised expression, before slowly relaying,”Yes, how‘d you know?”
“Considering I’ve never seen you before, and you immediately came up to the bar, I’d say you’re here to talk. What for? And, can I have your name?”
”Tucker,” Tucker says, picking up his glass of wine,”and, well, I don’t exactly know how to explain it? Like, I guess the closest I can ask you is, well, Dick, you ever had doubts about your gender?”
”Can’t say I have, son,” Dick replies.
“Like, I don’t want to transition, aside from the sole fact that it might be fun. However, that’s easily an awful reason. I still want to be called a guy, it’s just that I don’t feel like that blanket term describes me.”
Dick chuckles a bit,”That’s usually how it happens, continue.”
”So, here’s my problem. I’m male, but I’m not fully male, I’m not masculine at all...” Tucker puts his head down on the bar counter, trailing off.”That’s ridiculous, you probably don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.” He starts to get out of his seat.
“Sit down,“ Dick says with a sudden sternness.”If I had a dime for every time somebody asked me a heavy question like this, I’d have a new diner. Just because I don’t feel this myself doesn’t mean I can’t help you.”
Tucker laughs mockingly, sitting back down.”What will you do, tell me to be myself? I tried and I got confused, so that’s out of the sketchbook.”
Dick gives a blue-eyed gaze at Tucker.”Yes, and since you got confused, you’re doing the right thing.”
Tucker looks at Dick with a sort of confused look. He perks up, wondering what the heck Dick’s about to say.
Dick continues,”You might not’ve found the right gender to describe you yet. Once you do, it’ll be clear as day. I don’t know all of them, nor do I expect you to know. Just know that your feelings are completely normal, and they’ll subside naturally. I might be narrow-minded here, but I got a feeling that finding the gender is a good place to start.“
Tucker once again puts his head down on the bar counter.”But what if society says no?”
Dick looks directly at Tucker.”Then they’re in the wrong, the people that will relate to you are everywhere. It may not seem like that, but when I found my friends back when I was in high school, I simply looked for the people that related to me.”
And Tucker?”
”Yes?” Tucker replies.
”You’re always welcome at The Journey Diner,” Dick says, smiling.