House On Mango Street Monologue

“Hi, my car broke down about a mile and a half down the road, can you help me out?” I asked. “Let’s take a ride down there and check it out,” said the mechanic. We drove to my car and the mechanic looked it over, He said, “It may take a few hours to repair.” and recommended I find somewhere to eat. He pointed me back to town and said, “Good luck.” That’s when I found Moe’s Café. “Mom, I kid you not this place looks like a crime scene.” I said on the phone. “Honey, I’m sure it’s fine,” she said. “Mom, the floors that used to be white are now covered in grime.” “Well, it is somewhere to wait in your current situation, isn’t it?” She asked. “The walls hold photos of the place when it looked brand new in the fifties,” I said, “And it smells awful, like wet dog and mothballs.” “Maybe the food will be good,” she says in a cheery voice, “Call me when you leave.”
A waitress approached me, she looked like she was in her 60’s. Her name tag read, “Blanche.” She had light pink hair and wore a black t-shirt with jeans, She smelled of cigarettes and cheap perfume. She said, “Sit wherever you want.” I looked around the place and saw four customers, not including me. They all looked like locals. They appeared used to the surrounding filth. I walked towards a booth a saw the photo hanging above it, dusty and old, some kind of lake house scene
I must have left it at the table. I couldn’t breathe they were all trying to kill me. I walked out of the bathroom trying to calm down maybe I just heard wrong. I walked to my table and grabbed my phone. Slowly I walked to the door. “Hey! You have to pay for that!” yelled Blanche. I began to run, tears streaming down my face. “Moe, she’s a dine and dasher!” yelled Blanche, “Get her!” I was trying to find my way back to the mechanic, but I couldn’t remember where to go. I tried to call the police but my phone was dead. It was getting dark and I was all alone in the middle of