After a long, strenuous night of binge drinking there is no more welcome sight than the after hours breakfast restaurant. Well, that and a gorgeous woman dressed only in your t-shirt begging you to fuck the shit out of her. Since the latter has never occurred to me I thought I would tell you about the best late night egg joint around our neck of the woods.

We do in fact have several to choose from. There is a place called "Breakfast at Tiffany's" which the only place I can say I have witnessed someone throw up at the table. Since it is about 10 miles away walking is no longer an option and driving through that little suburb is just asking for trouble since cops have little to do around there at that time of night.

A little closer to home is "T.R.'s Place" or as affectionately known by the locals as "Hello Honey". It is run by T.R. (obviously) a friendly Italian lady who stands in at around 4 feet tall not including the 20 inch red beehive hairdo. She must have smoked 2 packs a day since birth since she sounds like Bea Arthur gargling rocks with strep throat. It is known as "Hello Honey' because that is what T.R. greets you with whether she knows you or not. You better pretend that you've been there before since the regulars don't take too well to strangers. I haven't been there in about 2 years but have heard that recently the clientele are mostly gays that trickle in the from bar across the street known as "That Place". That, however is a story for another time.

A few blocks up the street is where you would use to find "David's After Hours" which was formerly know as "Lillian's After Hours". Lillian was also an Italian lady with a large red hairdo and Dave was (as far as I could tell) gay. Coincidence? Both are now closed and have been replaced with a restaurant supply store which is never open.

A short walk up the street is the place which occupies the former "Michael's" which was a favorite of ours for a long time. Every time I would get sick from drinking I would tell my parents it was from his food. She always wondered why they didn't close the place down and now I'm wondering why my liver is shutting down. It is now "Late Night at Little Louie's" which I within a 2 minute drive from our house. Little Louie is about 6 foot tall and tipping the scales at around 350 pounds. He is the nicest guy you would ever want to meet. He comes out into the dining area to check on everyone. This is around 3 in the morning mind you, can you imagine what kind of assholes are out eating breakfast at 3 in the morning? Most of the time I was there they could have handed me a plate of shit and I wouldn't have known the difference. Lately I just run in around 11 before the drunks start pouring in the pick up some take out so I don't know what kind of people show up there now. The section really isn't that friendly so I don't tend to venture out after dark. In all of the above establishments I have either passed out, started a fight, threw up in the bathroom or a combination of all three. The way I look at it I'm sure a lot of people have done worse and in the next section I'll tell you about one such person.

I've the saved the best until last since it is the place we go to most often and because we wonder what kind of shit they'll let us get away with next. It's called "Tom and Jackie's". Tom looks like a kinder, gentler Ken Shamrock from WWF and Ultimate Fighting fame. He's the kind of guy who gives you a smile and a wave when you walk in but looks like he could rip out your fucking arm and beat you with it because you said your coffee was cold. Jackie reminds me of an IHOP special, "short stack with a side of ham", huge tits and a bookshelf ass on a five foot frame.

Then there is the supporting cast of characters. Brownzilla, incredible body but we caught her one time with brown stretch pants and brown top with an obviously fake tan. The Raul Julia guy who served us coffee once or twice who was recently arrested for kidnapping his wife and tying her to a tree and threatening to kill her. She later said it was a joke and she was then arrested in an unrelated incident for threatening to kill herself. And the most recent turn of events heralded the arrival of a new baby. Ah, isn't procreation a beautiful thing?

Various other p.o.a.'s (pieces of ass) have wandered in and out of that place over the years. Usually just filling in for the night, just long enough for me to lust over them but not long enough to witness my hard boiled eggs and sausage. I usually make a fool of myself with some smooth comment like "I love you" and they walk away in disgust. I have some sort of delusional fantasy that they're so excited by my wit that they hide in the back secretly rubbing their tits all over my pancakes and buttering the toast in their own special way. You may think it's sick but it gets me through many a lonely night.

I'm starting to depress myself so let's move on. This place has your standard bill of fare, eggs, toast, coffee. It also had a few "combo" specials known a Big Breakfast 1-3. This is what we get but since we are drunk most of the time and we can't vocalize that Suzie sells sea shells tongue twister, we have shortened it to BB 1-3. We can't even get that out most of the time but we've been there enough so I guess they can figure it out.

The most fun these days is trying to figure out what they're going to let us get away with next. We've done the normal stuff, start fights with people we don't know, pass out at the table, gawk at the waitresses, throw up and pass out in the bathroom for 45 minutes while your food gets cold and then you get pissed off at something and start walking home at 3 in the morning in the freezing cold (me only, more than once). But the thing that makes me wonder if there's anything this place won't let us do is the exploits of Dave. He's not featured too prominently on this page but this warrants some explanation.

BKB and myself were at T&J already when Dave came in. He had continued to drink at the bar and ended up walking over. He was covered in snow and soaking wet. "What the fuck happened to you!" "I got hit by a car." he says and casually sits down, falls into the booth actually. We were almost done eating by the time his food came, plain bagel no butter. I was stuck on the inside and he couldn't stand up so I had to climb over the back of the booth to leave. "Do you want a ride to my house?" "I'll walk." Bad choice for him, good luck for me. I passed out on my couch and was awoke later by him coming into my house, taking a shower and leaving again. I later asked what happened. "I puked on myself." Not only on himself but on the table at T&J. He walked to my house while they cleaned up his vomit and then he went back to finish his coffee. Tom them gave him a ride home after. Now how fucking cool is this guy. You spill your guts on his table in a place full of people and he taxis your drunk ass home. Next time through we're taking a shit in the cash register see how he handles that.

So next time you're looking for late night eats, check out Tom and Jackie's. And if you see Brownzilla tell her she's full of shit. Tell her she'll never survive a trip to NYC with Reach and Sluggo. I'll show her around my Big Apple. It's more like a lima bean but you get the idea.