“Does that come gluten free,” Jennifer Creedence questions with a voice coming mostly from her nose.  “I just have to be gluten free.”

The waiter smiles with his eyes, “oh yes, of course, I’ll bring you the tamari as well.”  His smile grows bigger as Ms credence’s eyes state the questions, “what the fuck is tamari?”

The waiter knew the door had opened to have fun with the illegitimate trend follower, the non-book reading diner who had sat in his section.

The waiter schemes behind the server section with his busser, “just go to the table and ask who the celiac is!  I’ll give you $20 if Ms. Gluten-Free knows what celiac disease is.  She’s fake news!”

With tamari in hand, the busser runs to the table with a potential $20 on his mind and the question repeating in his head.  He bites his tongue trying not to laugh, “who is the celiac,” he questions.  

A dear in headlights appears to take over ms. Credence chair and the busser repeats, “who is the celiac?”  

The two at the table look at each other and the busser’s smile resides.  He did not win his twenty dollars but he did win a laugh.