The sun beat down heavy and warm outside the brown, white, and yellowish diner. Across the street, children were playing in the park, couples were taking strolls, and many people dressed in nice clothing - one would assume they had just got out of Mass or whatelsehaveyou on a late Sunday morning - were wandering aimlessly, out and about. Ah yes, peace and calm serenity, just as a nice park should exhibit on such a day. Inside that one specific diner, however…

"Straight back and to your left!"

"Pick up those fucking eggs!"

"Ring ring, we're out of milk!"

"Who took my rye bread?"

"I'll get it right away!"

"Four waters to table seven!"

"I'm sorry, we don't deliver on Sundays."

"Uh, is there a list?"

"Harrington? Harrington?"

"Is something burning?"

"Kaplan. K-A-P-L-A-N, for seven."

"No, I'm sorry, those people were here first."

"We don't have tables for seven!"

"An hour-long wait, are you crazy?"

Structured chaos.

Amidst the confusion and calamity, a scarlet robin - between dusting off her apron, picking up orders, and dropping off meals at the many overflowing tables around her assigned area of the eatery - wondered why the place she was employed at had been titled "Coffee Shop" if it didn't just serve coffee alone, but, rather, catered to a mob of patrons who would ask for regular food one would eat at breakfast and lunch, and furthermore, pay eight dollars or more for a cup of joe and some pancakes. She was sleepwalking through her job, eyes showing little to no life or emotion while the gears ticked and turned behind her head, when a simple yet familiar voice brought her out of her reverie.

"Heyyyyyy, Margaret!"

She noticed that sing-song voice the moment it hit her ears. She looked down to see the blue jay who had called her name; he was sitting in a booth with three others. A soft smile came across her beak as she began to ignore the commotion wracking the rest of the diner. "Hey Mordecai!" She scanned the figures in the booth quickly to see if she might know anyone else the bird was dining with. She immediately recognized the raccoon next to him as the one who was inseparable from Mordecai; the other two - a gumball machine and a lollipop man - she had only seen in passing before. She assumed they were the other two's employers, based on the stories they had told her. "So, what're you guys doing here?" She asked, getting ready to take their orders.

"We-elll…" Mordecai continued in that voice of his as he pointed to the two men across the table, "Pops and Benson here managed to find a bunch of money lying around in the park."

"We could not find the owner," the lollipop man addressed as Pops said in his positively upper crust yet naïve tone. "We searched all morning for the fellow!"

"Turns out there was a note left with the money," Benson, the gumball machine, said. "Apparently, whoever found the money got to keep it!"

"So Benson said he'd treat us to brunch!" The raccoon exclaimed excitedly, a wide grin plastered on his face as he bounced up and down.

"As long," Benson said, glaring slightly at the raccoon, "as you two behave yourselves."

"Hey man, cool it down," he replied, putting his paws up in defense. "Don't drop your balls on account of us," he muttered, not as quietly as he had hoped.

As Benson was about to retaliate, Margaret let out a small giggle. "Well, I'm happy for you guys-"

"Margaret!" A voice boomed from across the crowded room, making the robin freeze in terror. "Cut the chit-chat, you have a lot of tables today!"

"Yes, sir!" She called back, watching as the owner of the voice slowly faded into the noisy background. She let out an audible groan. "Ugh. Sorry about that, guys."

"No, it's cool," Mordecai said understandingly.

"So, what can I get you all to eat?"

She took their orders and walked off to get them into the kitchen. As she began to journey through the madness that would soon envelop her, she momentarily felt something staring into her back; not a harsh glare, which is what she would normally receive from her customers, but a kind pair of eyes, comforting, reassuring…

She brushed it off and retreated into her lifeless, serving state.

Had she not done this, she may have heard the explosion of noise behind her as another waiter slipped and collapsed on the harsh ground, a tray of finished plates fallen on the floor beside him, and a soft round of applause followed by a small voice proclaiming: "Good show, jolly good show!"

Yup. Just another ordinary Sunday.