I?ll call him Slim, because I never caught his name. Slim wore a purple shirt, a black vest and a black cowboy hat. He had a dark mullet and a thin mustache.

Rusty, whose name could be Joe for all I know, wore a leather NASCAR jacket, a star-spangled baseball cap and you could see a cord trailing from his ear down to the cell phone clipped onto the waist of his Wranglers.

Dave, and his name was Dave because Kelly repeated it a number of time throughout their conversation, had just come from his cousin?s wedding. He was dressed up; Kelly even said so, in a white button up underneath a black sweater.

Kelly was a regular. They all were. You could tell by the way the waitress chatted with them and brought them their usuals without blinking an eye. Kelly looked about 16 with her chubby, shiny apple cheeks and grey hooded sweatshirt over a long black skirt. I think she must have been about 19, only because her friend in the cap-sleeved, mid-drift revealing black shirt had a Chinese character of some sort tattooed on her upper-arm.

Slim, Rusty and Dave occupied a booth across from Sister #4 and I. We had stopped in at Perkins after a long, hard day with the family celebrating the births of Jaycie, 5, and Max, 4. Perkins just seemed like the perfect place to cap the day and discuss the game plan for Sunday, which was to include a Steak Fry and The Strokes concert.

Instead, we listened intently to everything this odd little quintet had to say.

?Thank you Kelly,? Dave said when Kelly and her friend walked by, taking a booth at a 90 degree angle behind the men. ?That really made me feel much better.?

I?m not sure what Dave?s ailment was, I never heard. But Kelly was quite gracious in her acceptance of his gratitude.

Sister #4 ordered as Rusty, who was double boothing it, sat back down with the men.

?She?s looking at that Cosmo magazine,? he said, referring to some woman he was talking to on his cell phone. ?You know what that?s all about don?t you??

Slim and Dave just laughed.

?Yeah, she?s got an article in there that has the 40 way to . . . a woman. . .?

I never quite caught what these 40 things were supposed to do or be done by a woman. Rusty mentioned the article a few times, and though I directed Sister #4 to figure out what he was saying, neither of us could decipher the missing words.

Slim was on his own cell phone talking to another unseen person, Dave just smoked Camel Lights and drank coffee while Rusty barked at the woman on the other end of his phone into the air. The handless headset was a little creepy.

?Don?t they have page numbers on the magazine? Look in the bottom corners, that?s where they usually are,? he said.

?She can?t find the article,? he said to Dave. ?Oh you found it?? Ok, wait until Slim (but he said the guy?s real name, I just didn?t catch it) gets off the phone, I want him to hear this.?

?Ok,? Slim said putting his phone on the table.

?40 things . . . woman. . . it?s an article in Cosmo, she?s gonna read it to us,? he said. ?Always wear one stunning accessory in the bedroom.?

Sister #4 made bug eyes at each other over our pancakes trying not to make any noise so we could absorb the entire conversation.

?Talk sexy, but don?t use four letter words. I guess this means you can?t say you are gonna fuck the hell out of her,? Rusty said.

?I love my clydorist,? Kelly shouted to the men twice her age. ?Cly-ter-ist. I don?t know how to say it, but I love it.?

?There are ladies present,? Dave said.
?What?? she said, ?I?m a lady. There?s nothing wrong with it, it?s natural. I just love it.?
?There are ladies present,? Dave said nodding his head in our direction as I mouthed, ?I wish I could just take out my notebook and write this all down,? to my sister.
?I?m a lady,? Kelly protested.

Since it was blatantly obvious that we were eavesdropping Sister #4 and I started talking about our plans for the impending Strokes concert.

?Why do you keep screwing me?? Kelly yelled.
?What do you mean screwing you,? Slim asked.
?You?re screwing me,? she said.
?How could I be screwing you?? he asked.
?Not like that,? she giggled, ?I?ve already got a fuck friend. I don?t need another one.?

With that Sister #4 and I began to divvy up our bill. I ripped out a blank page from my grey-striped check register and wrote:
Kelly, a real lady knows how to pronounce clitoris. She?s also classy enough to realize that you don?t need to discuss it at the top of your lungs in a place where people are eating. I am glad you love your clitoris. It will serve you well. Someday you?ll look back on this night and blush. Love, J.

I left it on the table with the waitress? tip. I hope she passed the note to Kelly.