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Why not? It’s oozing with sex appeal, amongst other things. It’s that American delinquent your mother warned you about. That wise cowboy with legs for days and a belt buckle shaped like a sign for Route 69 has egg yolk running down his mustache as he flirts with the best damn waitress in the county. Tasha, with the long nails perfectly designed to leave marks on your back, looks at you and smiles. She never forgets a face and knows your usual. Waffle batter screams with pleasure as the iron squeezes down. Coffee gurgles into mugs while sweet syrup soaks into your plate, mingling with droplets of butter. Bacon grease cackles as Ricky thrusts his spatula in a dance across the griddle. The music of calls and callbacks between him and Tasha cement the communication skills needed for a great lay. This is the place for drunken nights and satisfied mornings. It’s the breakfast before, during, and after.