The Truck Stop

This story is attributed to Cleve Farvin.

A friend of mine had been at a truck stop getting some lunch. The food was good, prices reasonable, and the service fairly good. After finishing his meal, he and his companion were drinking coffee and talking, and noticed their waitress talking to one of the customers at the lunch counter. He wanted a refill and wasn’t able to catch her eye, but did notice that the customer seemed to be a friend of hers.

Just as he was about to get up and ask for a cup he noticed her laughing at something her friend said. Then she reached into the pocket of her uniform, pulled out her pack of cigarettes, and gave one to her friend.

Well, Cleve says he never had a chance to stand up, let alone ask for another cup of coffee, for just then two highway patrolmen seated on the other side of him flew to their feet, knocking over their chairs, and just about knocked him down getting to the waitress. As one was cuffing her, the other was reading her her rights. The poor girl was flabbergasted, but was finally able to ask what the matter was. The one who had read her her rights cited some portion of the penal code by number, but she just looked even more confused. The other patrolman, perhaps feeling a little friendlier, turned to her and said, “Ma’am, you’re being charged . . . with contributing to the malignancy of a diner.”

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