August 14th, 2011: Sunday                              

  August 15th, 2011: Monday                                 

  Tony knew exactly what went through the stupid little shit's mind as he stood out on the porch and waited. Last time, Tony had conspired with Mrs. Tracey to steal Dillon's win. This time, he'd put money on it that Dillon conspired with his own mother to steal his win. How did he not see that before? It irked him to no

  The flow of the whole trip was much smoother once they hit the road again. The two of them laughed and carried on to Avenged Sevenfold and Led Zeppelin in the background. They had been on the Atlantic City Expressway for some time, almost an hour, before they realized they had both forgone a proper breakfast. As much as they had discussed that once on the road, they wouldn't make unnecessary stops, they stopped at the first rest stop they happened upon. Though their little detour in the K-Mart alley had happened around an hour and a half before, Dillon was still a bit flushed from the intensity of the experience. 

  With full and incredibly happy bellies, they hopped into Bertha for the short return trip back to the apartment. Dillon continued to rave over the scrapple and stuffed French toast while Tony was all about the Belgian waffles. They had them set up for people to make their own. Next to the waffle irons(multiple, so as not to hold up the lines), the chefs had lined up trays of small disposable cups of waffle batter. A customer would simply choose a cup(they had different flavoured ones too, like blueberry and anice), pour it into the center of the waffle iron, then close the lid, lock it, and flip the whole thing. There was a small green light that lit up when the waffle inside was done, but Tony left it on longer so it made a thicker, crispier crust.