Enter Toledo Jones and the Fish

denny's restaurant 2:13 a.m.

"Well I guess our minor celebrity is paying off," said Fish, the sidekick of Toledo Jones.

Toledo appeared uninterested as usual, and allowed Fish to continue his musings.

"They say we get the table arrangement of our choice," Fish added, "whatever that means. I guess they hooked us up."

Toledo scanned the near empty Denny's dining room as he gracefully removed a toothpick from its wrapper and smoothly raised it to his lips and allowed it to dangle from his indifferent lips. He gestured with his chin to a booth along the back wall.

"Oh yeah, that one looks gravy," said Fish, tip-toeing on the uncharted thin ice of using pop slang, which caused him to carefully curb his enthusiasm to retain a shred of credibility.

Toledo was beyond eye rolling and head shaking at this point in their friendship, and simply walked coolly towards the booth.

Once they were both situated, Toledo started to remove his shades, but paused to motion his head at the light above the table.

"Oh right..." Fish stammered, springing clumsily to his feet, he unscrewed the bulb, affixing a dark aura around the unusual pairing of late night dining hero and sidekick.

Toledo sipped his water with the urgency of somebody awaiting the arrival of someone worthy of conversation. He passed the time watching the ever probing fingers of his table companion, as his hands took a tactile inventory of every object on the surface.