LONG STORY SHORT NEWSLETTER 2012 PROMPT
"An old man is dining alone in a crowded restaurant when a fire breaks out."
Old Man
by Andrea Monroe
Victor Vanburen hated the early bird rush at Connie’s, but thank God he was next in line to be seated. Just a bunch of old farts in here, he thought, but Victor was just as old and farty as the rest of them. Eighty-one-years old. Long life and it’d been a long line, too, because old farts really love meatloaf specials. Victor glanced over into the restaurant at the busy counter. He’d be able to take his usual seat next to the register any second.
As usual, Bernadette was at the podium with her greasy menus. And like usual, Bernadette wasn’t smiling, but Victor didn’t care. He wasn’t watching her face. Victor knew a good rack when he saw one and Bernadette’s were a 34DD. But no one, not even Bernadette, would ever suspect he was looking at them because old men like him never think of things like that.
“Looks like your seat opened up,” Bernadette said in her soft southern drawl.
Finally, Victor thought, as he followed Bernadette’s butt to his stool. She placed a menu in front of him and silently walked away. Why she hands me that menu all the time, I don’t know. I order the same thing. And if that damn Crystal dare says “what’ll it be” again, I’ll, I’ll – here she comes.
“Chicken soup?” Crystal waited with her ticket book and pen in hand.
Lucky for you, little one, Victor thought, but why is she chomping on her gum like some stupid cow? “You remembered.” Victor smiled. He gazed at her pretty green eyes since she was flat as a board. “And I’ll have five packages of those Saltine…”
“Quackers,” Crystal finished his sentence. “Be right back.” She smiled and walked away to place his order.
Cha-chang! Victor turned his head in the direction of the all too familiar sound of the cash register. A quick glance at the opened drawer told him they’d had a very busy meat loaf day, already. The five and ten dollar bill compartments were filled high with crumpled bills. But Victor stopped himself from staring at the drawer. He didn’t want to look suspicious to anyone, especially Rose, the girl who usually rang up the meals. Victor thought she must be pretty daft, though, the way she always hesitated in her change count. He’d witnessed her returning many overages back into the register. Stupid girl.
“Here you go.” Crystal was in front of him again and had placed his full bowl of chicken soup down without no so much as a drip lost in doing so. The soup spiraled steam into Victor’s face and caused his bifocals to fog over. Through the blur, he could see Crystal had given him a bonus, making it six Saltine cracker packages in all.
“You’re the best,” Victor said as she walked away.
Perfect. Victor dipped his spoon into the hot broth and sucked up a carrot into the vacuum as it went in. Carefully, he bowed over the bowl and brought the spoon up to his mouth, dribbling half of the liquid onto his extended belly. It created a perfect dark circle of grease on his tan shirt. Perfect timing, too. He’d done it just as Rose opened the cash register with that wonderful cha-chang sound again. Victor was now staring into the drawer – staring and wishing all that money would just fly out and fall onto his lap. He could stare all he wanted now that he was bowed over his bowl. He was certain everyone thought he was staring at his spoon. Then Rose shut the drawer.
It was a game Victor played every time he came to Connie’s. What else could a broken down old fart do but imagine how he could rob Connie’s cash register? Victor could do a lot with that money – maybe go to Yosemite to see the geysers. Nothing like an old geezer watching a geyser. But how in the hell was he ever going to rob it with over a hundred other old farts around? Nothing could make them move fast enough – that is, nothing but a fire. If only that wetback in the kitchen could start a grease fire. Nah, too dangerous. I wonder where Connie’s fire alarm is, he thought. He bowed down and took another spoonful of soup. Thank God there was some chicken on it this time. He thought he was going to have to call Crystal over and complain.
Victor’s eyes scanned the walls of the restaurant looking for the fire alarm and spotted it. Damn thing was in the kitchen. Jesus Christ. Just then Rose opened the register again, startling Victor. His spoon lurched in his soup, swashing broth over the side and onto his Saltine crackers. Well, a fire alarm in the kitchen won’t do. I wish it were like back in the day, he pondered. All you had to do was scream “fire” and everyone ran like the dickens. Now there’s thought, only the timing would have to be impeccable. I’d have to scream it just as Rose opened the drawer, and I’d have to scream it pretty damn loud to get her and everyone else to run for the door so I can grab that money. Here she comes. Cha-chang!
“FIRE! FIRE!” Victor pointed at the kitchen. Then hepointed up at the ceiling. Then he pointed back at the kitchen. The stunned first cook stopped flipping his burger and stared. The second cook made a comment to the first cook in Spanish, which sounded something like “loco.” Bernadette bounced over to Victor from behind in all her bodacious glory and Crystal touched his shoulder. And Rose, poor stupid Rose, slammed the cash register drawer onto her finger.
Are you alright Mr. Vanburen?” Crystal still had her hand on Victor’s shoulder. He could feel Bernadette’s bosom on his back. Rose just stood there and sucked her finger.
“Damn hot soup, Crystal. And I think you gals just gave this old geezer a geyser.”
A little bit about Andrea Monroe...
"I am a first time author who recently wrote a women's fiction novel called THE DEVIL AND ME and am currently querying agents.
Only recently, I have studied under Patricia Kokinos and other writing instructors at UCLA, including Carolyn Howard-Johnson. I am also a member of GLAWS (Greater Los Angeles Writing Society).'"
