They hadn't been at the diner more than five minutes when a waiter brought a plate of breakfast food past their table. A waft of greasy eggs and pork fat caught his nose and gave Gary a start. Junior was talking to Gina about what she was going to order, and didn't catch the contorted look on Gary's face. He smelt the bacon also, and even though he thought he was being funny at the time, he regretted the next moment for several weeks.
"That's not a good smell if you're feeling queasy. Well, whatever you do, don't think about greasy bacon. Or even worse, don't think about fatty, oily barbecue sandwiches with gobs of melted butter on top."
Without even looking at Junior, Gary leaned over and vomited in the leather booth he was sitting on.
"Oh shit!" Junior tried to jump up, but only succeeded in hitting his legs on the table.
"Uhhh, why did you say that?!?" Gina couldn't decide which cousin was more disgusting. Junior pushed her out of the booth without responding.
"Get up, Gary, get up. Alright, Gina, hold him here; Gary stand right here. Just stay here, I'll be right back." Junior ran off to the front of the restaurant, leaving Gina to hold Gary, and Gary to wipe the vomit from his chin.

By the time Brody took the Palmetto Park Road exit off 95, Stephanie was intimately acquainted with several parts of his anatomy. He was trying to focus on the road, but her nimble hands and dexterous tongue kept his mind off such trivial concerns. He neglected to realize that he was going about 8 miles per hour until the red and blue lights appeared in his rear view mirror.
"Oh fuck me." Brody's voice was monotonous and remarkably calm, mainly due to Stephanie being good at what she was doing.
"Don't get ahead of yourself there tiger."
"Look behind us."
Stephanie picked her head up, and seeing the reflection of the lights even before her eyes got above the dashboard, began a litany of curses.

Junior got to the front, and asked the hostess if he could talk to the manager. She picked up the phone, spoke a few words, and the manager appeared from a door adjacent to the kitchen. She was a decent looking, well-dressed woman, probably in her late thirties, who looked unhappy that, at her age, she was still pulling late shifts in a marginally successful restaurant.
"Hi, I'm Maureen, the manager. What can I do for you?"
"Maureen, could you come over to my booth for a minute?" She started following Junior back to his table, and he spoke to her enroute.
"Yeah, we were just seated, and, well, I don't want to get anyone in trouble for this, it's not a big deal at all, but it appears that someone left something in our booth, and nobody cleaned it up before we were seated." As he finished his sentence, they got to the table, and Junior pointed to the booth Gary was sitting in.
"What is that...Oh my lord! Oh, I am so sorry. Oh my! Is that vomit? Please, oh, I am so sorry. I can't believe this. Please go to the front, we'll get you a new table and take care of everything right away. I am so sorry." She turned to the kitchen. "PACO, GET OVER HERE!"
Junior led Gina and Gary back to the front of the restaurant. Gary was still holding his stomach, and Gina was trying not to giggle.
"I can't believe you just did that." She wasn't sure whether to laugh or to feel ashamed.
Junior smiled. "I grew up working in restaurants. I know how they operate."
They were seated at another booth in a separate part of the restaurant. Gary wasn't looking much better, but Gina had opted for laugher over shame.
"Can you hold it together? Are you going to be alright?" Gary nodded at Junior. Junior thought his cousin would be alright.

"Just be cool, and I'll take care of this. Whatever I say, just go along." Brody, though generally an officious ass towards any authority figure, had long ago, and from many personal experiences, realized that such behavior never, ever, worked with cops. Though Brody is often stubborn, he is not impractical. As he waited for the cop to run his plates, he collected her registration and pulled his license out of his wallet. He slid down slightly in his seat, hunched his shoulders forward, and lowered his head, looking almost like a dog that knew a scolding was coming. His window was down when the cop got to the car.
"License and registration."
Brody handed them over to the officer and said nothing. The officer shined his flashlight into the vehicle, looking for anything that could give him probable cause to search the vehicle. Seeing nothing, the officer continued.
"Son, do you know why I pulled you over?"
Brody noticed the three stripes on his uniform. "Yes, Sargent."
"Why is that?"
"I was going about 10 miles an hour."
"You know that's dangerous don't you?"
"Yes, Sargent."
"And why were you doing that?"
"Well Sargent, I just got back in town from overseas, and my wife picked me up at the airport, and well, we haven't seen...each other...for a long time." Brody pursed his lips slightly back over his teeth, shrugged his shoulders, and leaned slightly forward. "You know what I mean?"
"You military?" The policeman finally realized that this driver was addressing him by his proper title, Sargent, and not by the generic term "officer."
"No, Sarge. My father and both grandfathers were, but I have a rare form of hemophilia, and they wouldn't take me."
"Why were you overseas?"
"I am an analyst in the European Group for Vanguard Securities and I was checking out some companies. Ironically enough Sarge, I believe that we do the investments for the City of Boca Raton employee pension fund."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I found some good opportunities over there. Just means good things for your retirement fund." Brody offered his best humble smile.
The Sargent stared at him, and Brody stared back, trying to project fear and sincerity, though unsure if he was accomplishing it.
"OK, son." He handed back the documents. "Since you weren't doing anything that bad, and you don't seem drunk, I'm just going to warn you this time. Go on home." He leaned into the car slightly. "And ma'am, I understand that you're excited to see your husband, but you can wait ten more minutes, OK?"
Stephanie was too astonished to believe what was happening. "Uh, yes...uh, sir."
As soon as the cop turned, Brody rolled his window up.
"Oh My God! You are unreal. How did you do that?"
"This isn't the first time I've been pulled over. I've learned these lessons the hard way."
"Is any of that true? What you said, I mean."
"No. Well, not really. I use Vanguard Investments and I know that the City of Boca uses them also. And my dad and grandfathers were in the military. Everything else was a bold-faced lie."
"Isn't the term supposed to be 'bald-face lie'?"
"I think I've done enough to get some slack tonight."
Stephanie just smiled.

Gary had yet to get his coffee when the manager came over to their new table.
"Please let me apologize again for that. I am really sorry, that has never happened before. Let me buy your meal, whatever you want. Please."
"That's really nice, but honestly, it's not necessary. Really. It's not a big deal." Junior decided that he had pushed his luck enough for one night. He was too focused on dissuading the manager from comping his meal to notice the look on Gary's face.
"No, please, I want too, I feel so bad about..."
Though Maureen heard the noise from Gary vomiting, she didn't realize what the sound was until she actually felt chunky liquid hit her shoes and splash onto her legs. She stood completely still, except for her head which tilted downwards to see the damage, her brain trying to comprehend what her eyes and legs were sensing. When Gary started retching again, the addition of a third stimuli impelled her consciousness forward, allowing her to jump out of the way of his second wave of vomit, which by this point was little more than cloudy bile. She waited for him to stop regurgitating before she spoke.
"I think all of you should leave now."