A Huntington Beach... Waffle?

I walked to Fifth Street and a two blocks from the Huntington Beach Pier.  I needed a pair of tennis shoes so I walked towards  Stretchers who I thought had my brand.
  On Orange was an electrical bicycle shop and a one that restored old cars to my right. The few residences down Fifth Street led me to police station, a Mexican outside restaurant and the aroma of waffles. The tantalizing smell almost knocked me over. I needed to find out why so many ate there. Hunger snatched me off the street into the corner store, across from the street station  A warm smile gave me a menu. I knew at once what to order. The eight dollar burger fit my budget.
   "Like to try the Waffle Burger."
    "You made a good choice...Wish fries or anything to drink?..Take this gadget and we'll know where to serve you."
    "I placed the gadget  on the table and waited."
     So beautiful was the day, that many patrons ate outside. With a smile I received my first waffle burger. It had been cut into two parts. The lawn chairs faced the sun so I chose an outside table.  A baby was coddled by a young couple. To my right, A homeless one was being treated to a meal by a stranger and took his time to make a choice.
     The long hair red head studied for more than a minute. It had been such a long time that he entertained one that he wished to make a good decision. It would not be a Seven Eleven hot dog or a a bag of chips today. No today he would feel almost human. He took a seat in the back, far back, and waited while his escort departed for some business. The red headed eyes darted around, excited that he was a patron rather than a beggar today.
     Unlike the homeless one, I dug in to my waffle burger and wondered if the waffle would crumble when i bit into it. I can't tell you my surprise when I partook in this exercise. So flavorful it was, I spent several seconds chewing my first bite. Well it was love at first bite. Yes love at first bite. Don't know if was the inside pickle, onions or pickles,
     In no time I finished the sandwich but not quite. The last to enter my mouth was Mr. Pickle. And believe it or not, he began to speak to me...I took his cue and listened to him.
     I came from a batch of cucumbers from the Farmer's Market on Gothard Street. A Mr. Tom bought many of us and pickled us inside a barrel. He does quite well and we  were only 45 cents  each, not bad for one a foot long.
     Mr. Pickle told me how he his family climbed a fence until ripe to be picked. But I couldn't wait to taste him so he entered my mouth...
I needed to interrupt my lunch to call the health care center My brother Mel had not been well for a day or two. He wished to pick up a check from the finance office and was mad the Miss Quiggly did not bring a $1,800 check that she said she would.
    I spoke to my brother in  room 135 B for a few moments and left Bruxie's. Stretchers did not sell my Adidas shoe so I walked towards P.C.H. I ended up at the View Point Shopping Center and took up a seat at a table.
    I could not make out Catalina but could the volleyball players and fisherman at the pier I love to sit and enjoy the view even though some idiot wished to call it Pacific City...The number 29 bus took me home.