late night at ALVIN'S

Walking around the university neighborhood in the late hours I stumbled upon an establishment I had never seen before. It was an old, dingy white building that at one point had been a house. Now it had been converted to a local bar and grill, but not just any run of the mill bar and grill. The siding was covered by many rows of christmas lights, many of them flashing in a wide array of colors. There was a covered deck on the right side of the building when facing it from the street. This was the entrance. On the rails, support beams and roof of this deck where rows of colored light bulbs that illuminated the entire side of the lot through the fog and darkness of the winter night. "How long has this place been here?" I wondered. "How could I have missed it?" On the side of the building facing the street was a giant flashing neon of a clown. This was not just any smiling or waving clown, holding balloons to hand out to the kids at birthday parties. To the phychobilly music reverberating over the outside speakers on the deck, this giant neon clown was doing a perfectly in time, rhythmic pelvic thrust. Above the clown were multicolored neon letters flashing one at a time. A-L-V-I-N-S. I couldn't help but laugh. Maybe it had been pulled to earth's surface by some caravan from hell. Just a theory. I was hesitant in approaching the entrance but I knew there was no way I could pass a place like this up. I walked up on the deck where there were two women having a conversation, but it was completely drown out by the music. You could hear the speakers rattle. They were beat up from years of extensive use and exposure to the weather. I opened the door. I was immediately hit by the cloud of cigarette smoke that filled the room. I did a quick pan of the place not knowing what to expect. To my right, just inside the door there was an Ultracade machine with three teenage boys gathered around it, all smoking cigarettes. There were booths all the way around the walls of the place. In the middle was huge U shaped bar with stools all around it. It seemed as if there were as many seats at the bar as there were at the tables, however they were all occupied. There was a waiter standing on the other side of the bar but there were no other employees in sight. The place was packed with customers, all smoking cigarettes and almost all eating whole rotisserie chickens. Almost every spot in the place that wasn't occupied had not been bussed and was covered with left over rotisserie chicken, scattered newspapers, and cigarette ash. All these people were strangers to me. After a minute or so of walking around I finally found a semi-clean table in the back corner with a menu waiting for me. I turned it over. In bold letters it read "Whole Rotisserie Chicken" and below that "Split Pea Soup." That was it. The waiter came to my table. "Decide what you want yet?"
"This is really all you guys serve?"
"Yep."
"Can I get a cup of coffee?"
He stared at me blankly for a moment. "Sure, but that is the only beverage we have."
As he walked away I asked, "how do you guys get so much business with only three items on your menu?"
He glanced back at me over his shoulder,"because you can smoke."