Something A Canadian Would Do

A hard knock, on a slender door, signaled the visitor from the north, put down your twisting joystick and leave the game boy toy alone, allow the computer a relishing resetting elbow room preference.

“Coming,” Elizabeth Fisher announced, scampering towards the wooden entrance, accepting the social bait.

Opening the simple entry blockade, featuring single metal bolt lock protection, revealing a short stocky gentleman, wearing a black trench coat and hat, carrying a house doctor style intellectual armed driven briefcase.

“I am Orville Opportunity,” the stranger greeted, “I am here to review your future.”

“In about an hour, I am going over there,” Elizabeth turned the uninvited guest’s finger bringing attention to the bright lights in the night sky, “the Grease Pit Grill.”

“I see you have thought things through,” Orville commentated getting her point, “but what about tomorrow?”

“Well,” Elizabeth started, “there is the Sunrise surprise breakfast, light fare lunch and the third meal of the day.”

“Third meal of the day?” Orville curiously investigated.

“You have your meats, potatoes and veggies,” Elizabeth displayed.

“All three for one price?”

“Yup,” Elizabeth shook her head, watching Orville Opportunity set up shop using the untouched bed.

“I have some nice reading material for you, when you go to the Grease Pit Grill,” Orville Opportunity graciously informed, “you can get an education, get a trade or Motherhood.”

“What are those options again?”

“Education you apply brain skills, if you have a trade, you are playing a game, and Motherhood, you will never look the same.”

Listening intently Elizabeth pondered what Orville Opportunity was lecturing, “but Mr. Orville I want to be in the movies.”

Smiling Orville retorted, “education makes you a smarter thespian, remember performing talents are trades, and if you have one of those perfect shot scenes where the audience think you are not acting, motherhood maybe the result.”

A few minutes later Orville Opportunity removed, all his solicitation material before departing, leaving Elizabeth isolated.

Once the headlights disappeared, Elizabeth felt her stomach grumble, realizing the healthy choice late afternoon delight needed a bone in pick me up.

Pocketbook over the shoulder, fedora strategically head positioned, the adult teenager strutted over the parking lot, landing underneath the glowing warmth and seductive advertisements.

“Kids Eat Free,” Elizabeth mumbled, “if I told them the truth I would have a meal ticket.”

As an elderly couple left, she went inside raising her arm spotting her dining partner, “is that you?”

Finding her way through the standing crowd, Elizabeth made it to the table, “are you Mr. Starmaker?”

“Servicing all-star dates,” Mr. Starmaker mentioned, outstretching his hand.

“Great,” the maturing youngster replied sitting down, “I am Elizabeth Fisher, when I see food, I go to the catering table.”

“Someone, close to my heart,”

“Now Mr. Starmaker, do not have a culinary,” Elizabeth giggled.

For nearly a half hour, experiencing the full beef consuming experience, the two shook hands and separated.

Excusing himself Mr. Starmaker went into the restroom while Elizabeth ventured back to the one bedroom. Standing over the urinal, Mr. Starmaker rested his chin supported cell phone, “yeah she has the right image for the part,” he reported.

After washing his hands, Mr. Starmaker approached Gracie Grease Pit, “how did you marry someone named Grease Pit?”

“It was something I always had to put a steak into,” Gracie replied, "so is the girl going to work out, she has what the picture needs, right?”

Suddenly, colorful automobile sirens descended, upon the roadside motel and the four-wheel occupants jumped out shouting, “come out with your hands up,” could be heard a mile away.

“I think so,” Mr. Starmaker answered, “she had been thin ice skating and now she needed the break.”

“A headlining television documentary subject role promoting the network’s highly rated, Adolescent Busts,” Gracie handed Mr. Starmaker the strawberry short cake dessert, Mrs. Starmaker phone ordered as a take home item.