Neither of them were exactly sure who had suggested it to the other, or even if they had even brought it up with each other to begin with, but it wasn't really something they wanted to discuss while they were both wrecks of people sharing a car in the wee hours of the morning.

While Ronaldo typed on his phone to keep updated with social media, and dramatically sang and sobbed to the lyrics of 'Iridescent' while it blared over the radio, the shell of a man that was Lars did nothing but drive in silence down the lonely road, out of Beach City, destined not to return until after dawn.

They had lost control of their lives that night, during events that neither of them felt like discussing while in such a sorry state.

It was three AM, and they needed a place to pull over, curl up into balls, and die. Preferably with 24 hour service.

And that's how they ended up at Denny's, the only place open 24 hours, and that Ronaldo wasn't banned from. IHOP would rue the day that the mole people uprooted their restaurant and would regret having banned Ronaldo, and Waffle House would not let Lars return following what he would only refer to as 'the jukebox and sausage gravy incident'.

So as far as they were concerned, they did not voluntarily drive themselves to the establishment. They just ended up there, that's how janked up everything was after tonight.

Lars managed to park within fifteen seconds of entering the lot, making it more apparent how much of a void this place was, and that they were probably alone in their despair. True, nobody would see them wallowing inside the restaurant, but being alone inside a Denny's at three AM with nothing to accompany them besides complimentary water and a waitress stuck on the night shift, well they just felt even more pathetic.

Trudging inside, they both picked a booth by a window, sitting across from each other. Ronaldo's face smacked flat onto the table surface, hair spilling all over, while Lars simply rested his elbows on the table, cradling his face in his hands.

"I haven't eaten here since I was five," Ronaldo mumbled into the table.

"That's how desperate we are," Lars answered, sounding hopeless.

A waitress kindly poured them both glasses of water, and asked them both if they'd like menus.

"Sure," Lars sighed into his hands, hardly reacting as Ronaldo hauled himself off of the tabletop, and looked down at what was placed in front of him.

"We really messed up this time," Ronaldo whined.

"I'm not sure if I can show my face in Beach City ever again," Lars mumbled back, rubbing his face.

"Me either," Ronaldo sighed, and looked out the window. Seeing the far away glow of lights from Beach City, he yanked the blinds down, not even wanting to look.

They were both carrying a void of shame and despair, and needed to fill it with food.

Ronaldo scanned the menu, fingers running across it, feeling the waxy residue it left, "...They have a grilled cheese sandwich with mozzarella sticks inside it."

"That sounds absolutely disgusting," Lars grumbled, glowering at his own menu as if it had done him wrong (and he honestly thought it did at this point, just for making him sit inside a Denny's), "I just want pancakes. And eggs."

"I thought you hated eggs."

"Fryman, look at ourselves, we're in a Denny's. It's three AM. After everything that has happened to us tonight, I do not care what I shovel in my mouth."

"There's a Grand Slamwich..."

"Except for that. I don't even know what that is, but I do not want that," Lars grumbled, "Or that gross mozzarella stick sandwich. Or anything else that is not pancakes and eggs."

"OK... or you could just get pancakes without eggs and-"

"Don't question my logic," Lars snapped, frazzled and exhausted, and glanced over as the waitress offered coffee, and sighed in relief, "Yes. Thank you," and held the ceramic mug out, placing it back on the coaster once he had a full steaming cup.

"Have you two decided what you wanted?", the waitress asked.

"Can I get this?", Ronaldo tapped his finger on the picture of the mozzarella stick sandwich.

"Certainly," she smiled, then looked to Lars, "And you sir?"

"...", Lars realized he didn't actually look at anything on the menu, and his exhausted eyes scanned it, "...What the hell is a Grand Slamwich?"

The woman smiled, "That's everything that comes with a Grand Slam put into a sandwich!"

"That sounds terrible."

"Well they're very popular!", she smiled, "Would you like to try one?"

"No," he grumbled, "I just want pancakes and eggs."

"Well we could put some pancakes inside your Grand Slamwich-"

"No. No Grand Slamwich, just pancakes and eggs, scrambled," Lars glowered at the woman, whose smile could probably haunt Lucifer's minions in hell.

"Of course sir. One stack of pancakes and scrambled eggs," she smiled, writing in her notepad, "They'll be out shortly."

While Lars had been talking with the waitress, Ronaldo had taken this opportunity to take the table's entire quantity of sugar and dump it into his coffee, leaving a little pile of empty paper packets. He was about to use all the little half-and-half tubs too when Lars' hand slapped down on his own, "I care about you, and you need to stop."

"You don't care about me, you even said you'd sell me for a tub of hummus," Ronaldo called his bluff, tearing the lid off the second to last creamer.

"OK, that is very true, but hummus is very very good," Lars mumbled, "And if you use all that cream and sugar in one cup of coffee, your stomach is going to explode."

"Liar, you just want the rest of the creamer," Ronaldo huffed, dumping the last one into his coffee, which looked more like milk by now.

"Well I can't now, especially since you used it all," the lanky boy grumbled, and leaned over the back of his seat to steal the sugar and cream from the empty booth behind them, and proceeded to do the same as Ronaldo, using it all in one cup.

"When do you think it will be safe for us to go back to Beach City?", Ronaldo looked worriedly at Lars.

"Probably never," Lars groaned, slamming his head on the table.

And no more was said on the matter. While Lars' head lay there in a half dead slump, Ronaldo had taken the time to sneak up to the front counter and steal a childrens' menu and a cup of half-used crayons, deciding to busy himself further while he contemplated his future in Beach City. He couldn't let his last blog post be regarding him winding up (and possibly being found dead) at a Denny's.

Lars stole a crayon and proceeded to habitually break it into little pieces onto the table, cursing himself, Ronaldo, and their terrible luck and futures while he mutilated it with his fingernails.

"What did that crayon ever do to you?" Ronaldo whined, seeing the little colored pile of crumbs and dust on the table.

Lars grumbled something profane, and folded his arms, slumping into his seat.

After a second cup of coffee which was refilled by the waitress who still smiled hollowly at them, Ronaldo was a little more awake, and staring at his hands. The silence between the two as they were stuck in that little booth seat was starting to seem unsettling to him.

"You know...maybe things will be a little bit better after we eat?", he had suggested hopefully, being the optimist of the pair.

Inaudibly grumbling something as he angrily tapped on his phone, Lars glared at him a moment, then at the booth seat, then at his phone again.

"You look like you could use a balloon," Ronaldo looked at his booth mate, and got up, discreetly stealing a balloon from the front counter. They were meant for the children, but if they wanted to make it out of this establishment sane and sound, Lars would need to at least lighten up a little.

When Lars made no move to take the balloon, Ronaldo took one of his hands, and tied it around his wrist.

Lars took several seconds to realize what was on him, then flapped his arm frantically, cursing under his breath, and taking a fork in his other hand, plunged it into the balloon, which made a loud noise as it popped, surprising the few other diners inside the establishment that they never even noticed.

Ronaldo simply got another balloon and tied it on his own wrist.

And then he got a third balloon to tie onto Lars' empty gauge piercing. The teen angrily tried to pull it off, but gave up. It was the middle of the night, they were in what was perhaps one of the most low quality places in the area, and as far as he knew, his life was already over. A balloon wasn't going to affect that.

He didn't even react when Ronaldo continued to tie balloons to themselves on random appendages, making them both look like marionettes with all the strings attached to themselves.

The waitress didn't even seem to question it when she brought them their orders.

Lars stared at his plate, and noticed there was something very wrong. This did not look like what he had ordered at all.

"What is this?", he pointed at the plate.

The woman gave the terrifyingly hollow smile again, "It's a Grand Slamwich. They're very popular," and before an answer was made, she walked away.

In a matter of five seconds the entire table had flipped.

"I SAID I WANTED PANCAKES, WOMAN!", Lars shrieked angrily, amidst the wreckage, and as employees and diners alike stared in shock, he leaped up from the booth seat, and grabbed Ronaldo by the hand, rushing themselves both out, balloons trailing behind their bodies.

As they crammed themselves into the car, having to struggle with the balloons and everything, Ronaldo lamented that he didn't even get to eat his meal.

"Forget it. We'll eat somewhere else. Somewhere that doesn't make it obvious that our lives are ruined," Lars muttered through gritted teeth.

"Are they though?", Ronaldo decided to ask.

"As far as I'm concerned, yes. Maybe after 5 AM, it won't be, but for right now? I do not want to drive back to Beach City, understood?"

Ronaldo had mumbled something inaudibly.

"What was that?"

"...I told you we should have gone to Krispy Kreme."

Lars didn't even bother pulling off the road as he proceeded to screech and yell angrily while punching Ronaldo multiple times in the head, their car swerving down the road away from the Denny's, Beach City, and everything wrong with their lives that had been caused in less than 12 hours.

But nothing nearly as wrong as a Grand Slamwich.

I'll leave it up to your imagination regarding what they did that ruined them so much to make them go to Denny's at 3 AM, because this story is not called "How they end up at Denny's", it's just a story about them being there.

I was going to post this in my other drabble collection, but this was too silly for me to even post there, so it gets its own story.

On another note, if the episode 'Sadie's Song' leaves us on a bad note for Lars, then you can just imagine this happening after that.