The waitress brought their drinks and stood patiently holding her pen ready. Madge and Joe started in on their drinks blatantly ignoring the already annoyed waitress.

“Well,” she prodded, “what will it be?” It was obvious that her sweetness was going to wear off soon and that her twinge of anger might spark and ignite the entire can of aerosol hairspray encrusted into her hideous blonde bouffant hairstyle.

“Do we look like we want to eat?” Madge snapped as she put on her black Ray Ban sunglasses. Her eyebrows lowered and you could tell even behind the dark lenses that she was scowling.

“Go away,” Madge shooed.

The waitress looked a bit upset and turned away to go rant silently to herself behind the soda machine.

“God, what a hosebag,” Madge grumbled as she crumpled empty sugar packets in her hand, “I hate the waitresses here.”

“I don’t blame you,” Joe said underneath a hideously obvious milk moustache, “it’s like Attack of the Barbie Clones.”

Madge smiled and nodded approvingly.