Today's the day, Thought Gurdough, as he excitedly shined the last smudge off his svelte convertible one last time. Today, everything I've planned for will come to pass. After today, I'll be a different man! Taking a step back,he wondered aloud to himself, "Today is my day to shine like this car… nothing will go wrong… yeah?"

The plan for his day was to meet his girl. It was their first date, and everything had to be perfect.

As Gurdough's buffed ride slowed in front of his date's home, he glanced curiously to the front door. There she was, in all her beauty; Stella. She wore short boots and a denim scarf. Flowing like her scarf, her hot pink hair—Kuh-bump!

Jerking Gurdough back to reality, his car hit Stella's mailbox! It was bent! Like a corn stalk under giant feet! He felt terrible, however he knew he had other things to worry about. His appearance, voice, and attitude all had to remain cool for her to like him.

Gurdough leaned over and opened the passenger side door for Stella when his elbow hit the junk littering the seat. Viciously, he swatted the papers, apple cores, and pennies away and she sat down. They exchanged hugs.

"You know," Stella started, "it was me and my mom who built that mailbox."

"Oh! If you think I was going to leave it that way, please change you mind! I am already making a list of things to bring next I see you. Hammer, nails, p-p-p-pAInt…" his voice squeaked. He didn't know what he was saying.

The couple decided upon a café as their destination. The café was small. It hadn't been there for very long, and neither Gurdough or Stella had dined there previously. On the way, he noticed the gas meter read 'very low'. I can make it there. It's fine, he thought to himself.

Exiting the vehicle, Stella beckoned Gurdough to hurry, because she knew he was hungry. He nodded, and shut the door behind him. He began to follow her when he lost balance and nearly fell on his face. Yet he didn't hit the ground. Not really. He looked back and discovered that his shirt was caught on the car door. Aw, great. Now I look dumb, I bet. He reached for the door handle and pulled. Locked, of course…

Instead of catching anymore negative attention from his honey, he yanked his shirt once. Then twice. The third time, his shirt tore out from its relentless captor and was free. Shredded, yet free.

Stella chose the table by the window. She sat with her back to the sun. On the other hand, Gurdough was getting an unwanted eyeful of evening sun, and most of the time there, his hand was over his eyes. The dusty old television over their table was boisterous and was repeatedly cutting in and out of reception.

After some silence, their waiter finally came. He was handsome and tall. His well-cut hair matched his fine temper and foreign accent. Great, agonized Gurdough. Just what I need; a guy showing my girl what I am not.

So as to make him go away faster, when Stella ordered, Gurdough asked for the same thing and sent him on his way. Stella cocked her head to the side like a broken doll as she interjected, "Oh, Gurdough… I though you didn't like vegetarian dishes." She was right. Gurdough despised anything but meat.

"N-no, Stell! Where did you get that idea?" He was going to have to pretend the food was to his liking.

The salad, soup, and bread came first. Stella ate like the fine lady that she was, and Gurdough attempted to match her manners. At first, he believed the food to be tasteless simply because he didn't enjoy that certain cuisine, but then Stella remarked, "Huh. I would've added more oregano to the bread…" Though he didn't understand cook-speak, he agreed.

At last, Stella excused herself to make a trip to the restroom. The moment the door shut behind her, Gurdough bent all his weight on the table. He breathed fast. Finally, the light from the window went from retina-shattering to a humble glow, but that was the least of his worries. "She hates me! I haven't done anything right today!" He rummaged through his wallet in preparation for later however he uncovered just two dollars, a dime, and a half-a-handful of pennies.

A noise of shuffling feet grabbed his attention. When his sad, swimming eyes looked up, he saw the cursed waiter with their meal.

Gurdough exhaled heavily, "Hey, your food here don't taste right."

"Our cook is out sick. Please understand."

"Haven't seen a man act this way before?"

The man blinked and responded, "I have. In the mirror a little while back."

Gurdough did a double-take. "You? You MUST have anything YOU want! I mean, you got the looks, the attitude, the accent…"

The waiter turned away, "We will give you a full refund for the poor quality meal." Then, in a lower tone, said, "You have to be yourself."

A waiter giving ME a tip? Shaking his head, Gurdough straightened his bow-tie.

Instantaneously, the door to the ladies room swung open and Stella returned. Together, they ate their at-best decent meal.

Walking quietly out the doors of the restaurant, Gurdough gathered the courage and sighed, "Sorry, Stell. I guess their cook didn't show."

Stella smiled, "I could tell! I guess we'll have to come back again when he does show! I bet his potato salad is delicious!"

Gurdough laughed. She smiled!

But then the gears in his head turned like a computer after a blue screen. "Wait… Next time?"

"Well, naturally! Unless, you have a different place in mind…"

Gurdough whooped for joy! He opened the passenger side for Stella. The alarm went off. They smiled. He disarmed it. He gestured her to the seat and she accepted. He took his seat behind the wheel and started it up. They sped off… for about a half a mile. Then the car coughed out the last of it's gas.

Gurdough slumped down in his seat and turned to Stella. They started to walk the rest of the short way to her house.

"So, next time…" Gurdough loved to hear those words leave his lips, "You wanna hit that place again?"

"Absolutely. I loved the atmosphere there. It was so cute! But before that, you must fix my mailbox. It's such a sad sight right now."

"Ah, right. That. Hey, I'm sorry about that, too, Stell. I'll bring stuff for that… tomorrow?"

Stella smiled and accepted. "On two conditions, Gurdough: be sure to bring kneepads and a helmet. I don't want your own rainy cloud to damper our time together. And bring that shirt back so I can mend it for you. We don't want a torn top to be the thing we remember today."