As an establishment that stays open 24/7, the Omelet Shoppe saw its share of hooligans and ruffians (some of whom you’ll hear about in a later confession). As a result of these (often drunk) trouble makers, the Omelet Shoppe kept a night guard on retainer. This is the Creepy Night Guard.
Picture a tall, skinny guy in his early to mid-fifties with the rough build of Barney Fife. However, instead of a sickly, pale complexion, imagine him with skin that’s reminiscent of old, worn out leather. Now picture him with a lazy eye and a permanent crooked smirk plastered to his face. Please don’t forget the smell of cigarettes, that’s crucial to any memory of the Omelet Shoppe.
This man would make rounds in the dining area every half hour or so. The way he would eyeball people as he walked by the tables just sent chills down our collective spines. When I remember him, I think of a Vietnam war vet with PTSD who never really left the jungle. It seemed like every time he turned a corner he was looking for Charlie. And I’m pretty sure he was packing heat. There was a part of me that felt safer knowing there was security on site. There was a bigger part of me that was really scared.
Creepy Night Guard, I salute you.