A half written short story

When you think of excitement this certainly wasn’t one of the first places that came to mind, it probably wasn’t the second or third either.  Mcgregors Café, the only  breakfast restaurant within fifty miles lay on the outskirts of Hartford, away from the inner city.  While nearly all of the restaurants in the area either expanded to include lunch and dinner on their menus, Mcgregors Café stayed the same, only breakfast.  That’s because it was everything a breakfast place should be.  It was a house of friendship, you see most of the people that go here, have been going here for a long time.  It was cozy, when you walked in the wood floors still had enough luster in them to dance when the morning sun hit them.  An organized mess bestly describes the walls, when Old Pat first opened he never really put much thought into what the place would look like.  He always had more of a functional personality, more concerned with how and why things work rather than how pretty they were.  For the first couple of weeks after the grand opening the walls lay bare, a pale blue surrounded you and it was quite unpleasant.  Finally one of the first regulars of the resteraunt, and oldest, Tommy Smith asked if he could post some newspaper clippings up on the wall.  Pat agreed, and Tommy then started the beginning of an era.  The next day a couple of other customers asked if they could bring in something for the wall, Pat grasciously agreed as he knew the restaurant needed some cosmetic improvements but he had put all his money into it, and didn’t even have a dime to his name to buy paint to change the color.  The first two things ever put up on the wall were a moose head, shot by Tommy himself and...