S u r i
Grim Reaper
- Joined
- May 22, 2011
- Messages
- 429
- Reputation score
- 18
Chapter 1
I'm sittin' around
Mind just twirlin'
I can't get my thoughts to come down
They just keep flyin'
Man, I love my job. The pay was good enough to get me what I need and some of what I wanted, and the atmosphere was much better than some droll office job where you answered phones all day while trying to sort out your meager existence. Nope, I didn't have any of that here. Just a university student earning his way while introducing himself to the world around him.
I was standing around in the lounge of a small family restaurant, I donned a black, pocketed apron with matching shirt and pants underneath. My name was clearly visible on the dark apron: “Marren,” it read in bright red print. I've been waiting tables for this place for a nice two months, and everyone around here already treats me like one of the family.
I was on the last stretch of my shift – which was from 9am to 3pm. Just one more table and I'd be off to enjoy the rest of my day. Then they came in. A young man and woman in their very late teens, and a little girl that was either ten or eleven. A usual group that everyone was very familiar with. The two older customers I knew from a the university I attended. The little girl, not so much. Before long I was approaching them with my all time BS-winning smile, saying the words everyone hears when they're seated at a family restaurant.
“Get the hel--” Just kidding.
“What would you guys like to drink?” I asked them while placing menus before them, only to be bombarded with nothing that came close to an answer to my question.
“Marren? Geez, bro. I haven't seen you in two weeks!” the young man shouted. He was soon elbowed in the arm by the young woman, who was shushing him.
“Water for all of us, please,” the young woman said, looking at her company. I wrote down the requests and flashed a genuine smile before leaving to fetch them their drinks. As I walked I away, I heard the guy say, “Did he just smile at us, for real? Ow! What was that for, Karen!”
“Shut up, you moron. He's at work!” Karen berated him.
I came back with their drinks, glasses filled with ice and water, and placed them down onto the table with straws. The guy was still acting a bit stupid, fidgeting and snickering at me from behind his menu.
“Have you guys decided on what you'd like to order?” I asked them, taking out my little notepad and pen.
“Tsung and I will share the Philly Cheese Toaster,” Karen said, looking to Tsung the Idiot. He nodded in agreement.
“And you?” I asked the little girl, who wasn't even looking at her menu.
“Oh you know what I want,” she said rather quickly and with a sharp tone. She seemed a bit mad. What I was about to say would probably change everything. Little sadist demon.
With a sigh, I just jotted down exactly what she wanted. I put away the notepad, and repeated their order, “A Philly Cheese Toaster and the...” I paused to look at the little girl, before suddenly turning into a little fruitcake. I looked at the little girl and put on the brightest smile I could manage, and it was pretty damn bright, too.
“Sunshine Day Delight Parfait!” I chimed with a singsong voice that could probably summon rainbows and ponies if given the oomph.
Tsung busted out in laughter. Karen snickered a bit. The little demon girl smirked and her eyes glistened. The people in the surrounding tables were having their own field day, and my fellow coworkers were giggling amongst themselves. Everyone seemed to be reveling in the moment. Everyone except me. When someone ordered that stupidly named dessert, we were told to repeat it in the most delightful and brightest way possible. It's also earned another name, “The Marren Special.” Why, you ask? Because the only person who's ordered it was that little girl. And the only person's who has had to repeat it was yours truly. You know nothing of misery.
After everyone quieted down, I was off to place the order. The chef had a small glass of Mountain Dew on the counter waiting for me. He always did that when I had to repeat that condemned order. I drowned my misery in Mountain Dew, downing the drink before placing the order on the counter. He took it without saying anything. He knew my pain. Something inside me thought he had to go through the same troubles as well. I had a little epic going on in my head detailing the chef's grand journey through pain and misery of having to repeat that stupid order. There weren't any dragons or cute girls. Maybe that's why he was miserable.
Whatever, I'll be glad to be done with this shift.
Last edited: