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Who's Afraid of the Flat Top Grill, Oak Park


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Who's Afraid of the Flat Top Grill, Oak Park

David Hammond | Nov 1, 2003 12:34 AM

[A moon-lit Halloween night; GEORGE and MARTHA waddle and stumble into Flat Top Grill on Lake Street, Oak Park; they are befuddled and frumpy]

GEORGE: Well, Martha, what new abomination have you foisted upon me tonight?

MARTHA: The kids go here all the time.

GEORGE: A compelling reason to stay away, I should think.

MARTHA: You’re a cluck.

GEORGE: I believe I’ll have you committed.

[They’re greeted by a HOST, a young man who puts them at a table near the front].

HOST: So, have you visited our restaurant before?

GEORGE: Perhaps. I’ve been in hell for a long time now.

MARTHA: Don’t mind him. No, we haven’t been here before. How’s it all work?

HOST: Well, you go up to the counter and pick your up vegetables and spices, and then your meat, and the chef puts it all together.

GEORGE: I thought you said this was a restaurant.

HOST: Sir…

GEORGE: Just now, it seemed as though you were describing a cafeteria.

HOST: Sir…

GEORGE: You’re repeating yourself, my boy.

MARTHA: [to George] George, you’re such a simp. [To Host] Give us coupla scotches.

[Martha leads George to the buffet of food; they select their food; George seems to be hallucinating, and may very well be]

The line's not too long.

The Bataan Death March comes to mind.

[Their food prepared, they return to their table, where two cocktails are waiting]

Why Martha, they’ve brought only two. They must have forgotten mine. Here, you take them both.

Shut up you.

[They start to eat]

My “food” has the consistency of mud, but it doesn’t taste quite so good.

Poor George Porgie Put upon Pie. What are you doing; are you sulking?

I’m tired.

I don’t know what you have to be tired about; you didn’t do anything today. You never do anything.

I don’t like what I made.

You could have made whatever you wanted.

But I’m not a cook, you see. That’s why I go to restaurants.

[The Host sweeps up to the table]

Is everything all right?

MARTHA [brightening]:
Hello again, Handsome. I’ll have another drink.

My god you can pour it down.

MARTHA [chanting aggressively at George]:
Who’s afraid of the Flat Top Grill, Flat Top Grill, Flat Top Grill!

I am.

Flat Top Grill
726 Lake Oak Park

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