Heads turn as the Gray Man climbs up onto the table top. He stands there for a minute with the green lamp sideways on top of his head. It looks like he's wearing a terrible novelty hat.
The sound of footsteps from outside stops. Now that it's quiet, the occupants of the cafe realize they can hear the Gray Man mumbling. His voice is low and wheezy, and all they can make out are the occasional consonants and sibilants.
"Sh...tp...sh...tp...st..pf..k...k..p..Bas..t...sss"
He starts shifting back and forth as he mumbles. He's got some kind of small device in one hand. It looks like a cell phone mated with a tiny hair dryer, and for some reason there's what looks like a chicken's foot attached to it.
The Old Man and the Pregnant Woman watch with interest as the Gray Man stares at his device, and then tries to wave above his head. His hand hits the ceiling, and he loses his grip. The little device falls to the table, hitting with a plasticy cracking noise.
"Ff....sst!"
The Pregnant Woman leans over to the Old Man, putting her mouth in the general vicinity of his ear.
"Here we go again" she says nastily.
The Old Man glances at her out of the corner of his eye and smirks, then looks back at the Gray Man.
The Gray Man leans down to try and retrieve his device. The lamp, deprived of its support, swivels until it is upside down and hangs precariously.
The Gray Man bends awkwardly, and shuffles across the table after his device. One booted footstep too many and the device goes flying off the table. It skitters along the floor like a small evasive rodent, and vanishes beneath the other tables.
"Box of hammers would do better than that" the Old Man whispers to the Pregnant Woman. He adds a disdainful snort, and resumes watching the Gray Man while using his plastic witch's claw as a back scratcher.
The Gray Man peers down at the floor, trying to see where his device went. He turns his head from side to side, still stooped over. His breathing is getting louder.
The Pale Girl picks her head up off her knees and looks around. A line forms on her forehead when she spots Gray Man up on his table top.
She glances over at THE KING! He's ignoring everything, instead intent on several pool balls he has retrieved from bottom of the pool table. He's trying to balance the balls one on top of the other with one hand, while brandishing his scepter at them with the other.
Pale Girl shakes her head ever so slightly, her long whitish hair twitching around her shoulders. She turns to the Pregnant Woman and the Old Man. They each have a glass of the Pregnant Woman's colorless drink in one hand. They're leaning in toward each other, and staring at the Gray Man as they comment back and forth.
No help there.
The Gray Man straightens back up suddenly. His head hits the lamp again, this time hard enough to knock it off of the wall entirely. The lampshade goes bouncing down off his shoulder, and the rest of the lamp ends up hanging from the wall at the end of a foot or so of cord.
The Pale Girl sighs a small resigned sigh, and then sniffs quite loudly. She gets up out of her chair and crosses the room to the Gray Man's table. She just stands there, and after a minute the Gray Man looks down at her. She raises an eyebrow and holds out her hand.
The Gray Man considers the hand for a moment, and then carefully climbs down off the table. Once on the floor, he takes her hand. The Pale Girl quietly leads him towards the back of the Cafe.
As they pass THE KING! he is distracted from his tower of balls. His scepter wavers and the tower collapses into a small avalanche of rolling clacking balls. Several of them escape into the pockets of the pool table.
THE KING! frowns angrily, but before he can say anything the Gray Man and the Pale Girl have gone past and vanished into the kitchen.
1) The Old Man and The Pregnant Woman wait for the two to come back, discussing the state of things outside.
2) The Old Man and The Pregnant Woman wait for the two to come back, trying to get THE KING'S! opinion on what's going on.
3) The Old Man and The Pregnant Woman try to spy on The Gray Man and The Pale Girl.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Round One, on the house
"Pour me one?"
She starts to reply, and gets the first syllables of an insult out before she realizes he's only asked for a drink. She'd been expecting something else. The old man looks at her expectantly.
Before she can answer, the building suddenly creaks. It's the wind. Lots and lots of wind, pouring down out of the sky and slamming into the outside of the building. There's the sound of windblown objects rolling and colliding. Everyone in the cafe tries to look unconcerned by the sudden intrusion of the outside world.
There's a crash that can only be something large and made of glass becoming lots of sharp little somethings, and then the wind goes back to wherever it came from. The cafe is quiet again.
The pregnant woman looks at the old man hopefully. Maybe he's forgotten about the drink. No. He's still waiting for an answer.
"You...." she starts to say one thing, but gives up. "Here." She fills the old man's glass a third of the way, then puts the bottle next to her own glass. He takes a cautious sip and tries not to cough any back out.
"Haven't had that..." and then more sound from outside interrupts the conversation. Footsteps. It sounds like an entire army is going past the building, in total silence except for their boots. The cadences are strange though. The steps are nonrhythmic, some shuffling, some too fast, some just uneven. Maybe this army is skipping past. Maybe this army has been drinking. Maybe this army isn't trained all that well. Maybe this isn't an army.
The gray man in the corner eyes the door with excitement. For the first time in a while, his breathing is quiet and unlabored. He has to force himself to look away, back down to his table. His pained breathing returns.
The pale young woman buries her face in her knees, still hugging them to her chest. She doesn't make a sound.
THE KING! perks up at the sound of the footsteps. He looks at the front door, and laughs. "There they go again!" he says to no one in particular. Seeing heads turning in his direction, he pulls his scepter from the corner pocket of the pool table and waves it grandly at his court. He's oblivious to the pitying looks several of them are directing his way.
The gray man in the corner is not looking at THE KING! He's still trying to keep his eyes on the table in front of him. He puts both hands flat on the table, and then suddenly slaps the table surface and jumps to his feet.
The antics of THE KING! are forgotten as everyone's attention shifts to the gray man's corner.
He climbs onto the table he was sitting at. His head pushes a green lamp sideways, and his boots knock an ashtray off of the table onto the floor. He's clearly about to do something drastic.
1) The Pregnant Woman talks him down
2) The Old Man goes into action
3) Let's see where he's going with this
She starts to reply, and gets the first syllables of an insult out before she realizes he's only asked for a drink. She'd been expecting something else. The old man looks at her expectantly.
Before she can answer, the building suddenly creaks. It's the wind. Lots and lots of wind, pouring down out of the sky and slamming into the outside of the building. There's the sound of windblown objects rolling and colliding. Everyone in the cafe tries to look unconcerned by the sudden intrusion of the outside world.
There's a crash that can only be something large and made of glass becoming lots of sharp little somethings, and then the wind goes back to wherever it came from. The cafe is quiet again.
The pregnant woman looks at the old man hopefully. Maybe he's forgotten about the drink. No. He's still waiting for an answer.
"You...." she starts to say one thing, but gives up. "Here." She fills the old man's glass a third of the way, then puts the bottle next to her own glass. He takes a cautious sip and tries not to cough any back out.
"Haven't had that..." and then more sound from outside interrupts the conversation. Footsteps. It sounds like an entire army is going past the building, in total silence except for their boots. The cadences are strange though. The steps are nonrhythmic, some shuffling, some too fast, some just uneven. Maybe this army is skipping past. Maybe this army has been drinking. Maybe this army isn't trained all that well. Maybe this isn't an army.
The gray man in the corner eyes the door with excitement. For the first time in a while, his breathing is quiet and unlabored. He has to force himself to look away, back down to his table. His pained breathing returns.
The pale young woman buries her face in her knees, still hugging them to her chest. She doesn't make a sound.
THE KING! perks up at the sound of the footsteps. He looks at the front door, and laughs. "There they go again!" he says to no one in particular. Seeing heads turning in his direction, he pulls his scepter from the corner pocket of the pool table and waves it grandly at his court. He's oblivious to the pitying looks several of them are directing his way.
The gray man in the corner is not looking at THE KING! He's still trying to keep his eyes on the table in front of him. He puts both hands flat on the table, and then suddenly slaps the table surface and jumps to his feet.
The antics of THE KING! are forgotten as everyone's attention shifts to the gray man's corner.
He climbs onto the table he was sitting at. His head pushes a green lamp sideways, and his boots knock an ashtray off of the table onto the floor. He's clearly about to do something drastic.
1) The Pregnant Woman talks him down
2) The Old Man goes into action
3) Let's see where he's going with this
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Pregnant Woman
The pregnant woman turns with a force strong enough to knock her glasses from the top of her head back down to the front of her face. She tries to stare disapprovingly at the young woman, but latter doesn't lift her head.
"... bitch," the pregnant woman says to no one. After taking a sip from her glass, she takes the glasses off completely and drops them on the bar. There's a pain in her stomach as the baby kicks, but realizing that the rest of the bar is probably looking at her for calling someone a bitch, she stifles the urge to jump and rub her belly, and instead tries to take another sip. It's not until she nearly has the glass at her mouth that she notices it's empty. She takes a look over her shoulder at no one in particular, to make sure no one is watching. Without looking at the bar, she pulls an unlabeled bottle out and fills her glass.
The old man next to her continues to eat peanuts using his Halloween toy as his hand. Because of the stiff plastic fingers on the hand, he holds the peanut baggie right below his face. Over the top of it he gives her a very mixed look. There are elements of concern, scorn, confusion, lewdness, and more.
She works up her most hostile stare, and makes what she hopes is a scornful snort. It sounds a little like a stifled sneeze. He slowly opens his mouth and asks...
A) What'cha drinkin'?
B) Pour me one?
C) That for you or the thing in your belly?
"... bitch," the pregnant woman says to no one. After taking a sip from her glass, she takes the glasses off completely and drops them on the bar. There's a pain in her stomach as the baby kicks, but realizing that the rest of the bar is probably looking at her for calling someone a bitch, she stifles the urge to jump and rub her belly, and instead tries to take another sip. It's not until she nearly has the glass at her mouth that she notices it's empty. She takes a look over her shoulder at no one in particular, to make sure no one is watching. Without looking at the bar, she pulls an unlabeled bottle out and fills her glass.
The old man next to her continues to eat peanuts using his Halloween toy as his hand. Because of the stiff plastic fingers on the hand, he holds the peanut baggie right below his face. Over the top of it he gives her a very mixed look. There are elements of concern, scorn, confusion, lewdness, and more.
She works up her most hostile stare, and makes what she hopes is a scornful snort. It sounds a little like a stifled sneeze. He slowly opens his mouth and asks...
A) What'cha drinkin'?
B) Pour me one?
C) That for you or the thing in your belly?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Prelude
Upon entering the Chupacabra Cafe, the first thing a patron sees is the following graffiti, written on the lowered ceiling in excellent penmanship; "Shit... this was supposed to be the future..." Another message, written in fine, sixth grade cursive on the door, reads, "Madness is the emergency exit." This one becomes visible on exiting. Both messages were written long ago by people who no longer come to the cafe.
There are no windows in the cafe's main room, making it appear more like a bar. And in fact, it is a bar. The gourmet coffee is only a distraction to the current patrons. The scones sitting in the bottle next to the cash register went stale back when people thought Adam Sandler was funny.
Few patrons still frequent the cafe daily. The pregnant woman stares up at the bottles on the bar, sipping her colorless drink. Scratching at the protrusions on the top of her head, she tries to ignores the old man as he picks up a long plastic device from where it is leaning against his bar stool. Clearly the relic of some Halloween long past, it's a plastic witch's claw on a stick. He extends the device across the bar and leaning forward, and pushes a lever. The claw opens up, and closes again on a baggie of bar peanuts. The metal tree from which the peanut packets hang clearly does not wish to be separated from it's prepackaged fruit. It sways and shakes as the old man jerks the arm in various direction. After a lengthy semaphoric struggle, the peanuts are finally obtained.
In the corner, a tall man with grayish skin rubs his shoulder an moans quietly. Through the corner of his eyes, he steals glances at the others. He pays particular attention to the man at sitting at the head of a pool table. He's known as, THE KING! THE KING! sits proudly at the table, a goblet in hand. His scepter is kept sheathed in a corner pocket. While he thinks all eyes are on him at all times, he's mostly ignored these days. He considers himself a benevolent king even though the others consider him an annoying, little man.
The jukebox in back plays only two songs, the other records scratched and worn. Track 152 is, 'John the Baptist', by The Afghan Whigs. Track 415 is, 'Scatman' by Scatman John. The paint on keys 1, 2, and 5 wore off months ago. The lettering on key 4 is still clearly visible.
There's a ceiling fan hanging in the middle of the room, lit with dim, dying bulbs. There are lamps on the walls around the cafe, each with a bulb of a different color. Above the mirror behind the bar hangs a yellow light. Next to the free, skunky coffee machine is a red light.
Back in the corner, sitting under the only lamp in the cafe that's unlit, is a pale, young woman. She sits hugging her legs to her chest, and doesn't make a sound. The others tend to forget she's even there. Occasionally, when the bar falls silent, she startles everyone with a loud sniff. When they take a look over, she's as still as ever; her eyes staring at the middle of the table. If it weren't for the slight movements she makes with each breath, it'd be hard to tell she was alive.
There's only one bathroom way in the back of the cafe, and it has a claw foot tub in addition to the urinal and stalls. There may or may not be things stored in the tub. There's a frosted glass window, but it's both nailed and painted shut, as well as locked. On the wall near the windowsill, there's more graffiti, this time in flowing cursive. But the entire phrase is listing to the left and downwards, as if the person writing it were sinking as they wrote. "¿por qué no se ajuste a través de la ventana?"
Going past the bathroom, in the very back, there's an elevator door where one would expect to see a fire exit leading to the alley behind Chupacabra Cafe. At least, that's what it's assumed to be. Looking very much like the sliding metal doors leading to an elevator shaft, no one's seen it open before, and there are no buttons to operate it. Not to mention that it would theoretically open right into the alley, where there is no elevator nor elevator shaft. Every now and then, there's a bang on the door. Everyone ignores it as someone slipping in the alley or mistaking the back door as the front.
The jukebox has been silent for some time now. Almost as if on cue, the young, pale girl in the corner sniffs loudly...
_______ is shocked out of their thoughts and back into reality.
A) The pregnant woman
B) The old man
C) THE KING!
D) The gray skinned man
E) The young, pale woman
There are no windows in the cafe's main room, making it appear more like a bar. And in fact, it is a bar. The gourmet coffee is only a distraction to the current patrons. The scones sitting in the bottle next to the cash register went stale back when people thought Adam Sandler was funny.
Few patrons still frequent the cafe daily. The pregnant woman stares up at the bottles on the bar, sipping her colorless drink. Scratching at the protrusions on the top of her head, she tries to ignores the old man as he picks up a long plastic device from where it is leaning against his bar stool. Clearly the relic of some Halloween long past, it's a plastic witch's claw on a stick. He extends the device across the bar and leaning forward, and pushes a lever. The claw opens up, and closes again on a baggie of bar peanuts. The metal tree from which the peanut packets hang clearly does not wish to be separated from it's prepackaged fruit. It sways and shakes as the old man jerks the arm in various direction. After a lengthy semaphoric struggle, the peanuts are finally obtained.
In the corner, a tall man with grayish skin rubs his shoulder an moans quietly. Through the corner of his eyes, he steals glances at the others. He pays particular attention to the man at sitting at the head of a pool table. He's known as, THE KING! THE KING! sits proudly at the table, a goblet in hand. His scepter is kept sheathed in a corner pocket. While he thinks all eyes are on him at all times, he's mostly ignored these days. He considers himself a benevolent king even though the others consider him an annoying, little man.
The jukebox in back plays only two songs, the other records scratched and worn. Track 152 is, 'John the Baptist', by The Afghan Whigs. Track 415 is, 'Scatman' by Scatman John. The paint on keys 1, 2, and 5 wore off months ago. The lettering on key 4 is still clearly visible.
There's a ceiling fan hanging in the middle of the room, lit with dim, dying bulbs. There are lamps on the walls around the cafe, each with a bulb of a different color. Above the mirror behind the bar hangs a yellow light. Next to the free, skunky coffee machine is a red light.
Back in the corner, sitting under the only lamp in the cafe that's unlit, is a pale, young woman. She sits hugging her legs to her chest, and doesn't make a sound. The others tend to forget she's even there. Occasionally, when the bar falls silent, she startles everyone with a loud sniff. When they take a look over, she's as still as ever; her eyes staring at the middle of the table. If it weren't for the slight movements she makes with each breath, it'd be hard to tell she was alive.
There's only one bathroom way in the back of the cafe, and it has a claw foot tub in addition to the urinal and stalls. There may or may not be things stored in the tub. There's a frosted glass window, but it's both nailed and painted shut, as well as locked. On the wall near the windowsill, there's more graffiti, this time in flowing cursive. But the entire phrase is listing to the left and downwards, as if the person writing it were sinking as they wrote. "¿por qué no se ajuste a través de la ventana?"
Going past the bathroom, in the very back, there's an elevator door where one would expect to see a fire exit leading to the alley behind Chupacabra Cafe. At least, that's what it's assumed to be. Looking very much like the sliding metal doors leading to an elevator shaft, no one's seen it open before, and there are no buttons to operate it. Not to mention that it would theoretically open right into the alley, where there is no elevator nor elevator shaft. Every now and then, there's a bang on the door. Everyone ignores it as someone slipping in the alley or mistaking the back door as the front.
The jukebox has been silent for some time now. Almost as if on cue, the young, pale girl in the corner sniffs loudly...
_______ is shocked out of their thoughts and back into reality.
A) The pregnant woman
B) The old man
C) THE KING!
D) The gray skinned man
E) The young, pale woman
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