The wind chimes clanged wildly with the sudden gust of wind as Hans stepped through the open door. He closed the door behind himself, locking out the rainstorm. As the chimes settled down once again, Hans turned around to see several people within the small coffee shop look up at him.
The sound of water dripping from his trenchcoat and hat shapped Hans from his trance, and he placed them on the nearby coatrack. He worked his way down the aisle and put down his briefcase underneath a counter-side stool, which he sat on, still looking at people who continued staring at him.
"What'll ya have, honey?" A squeaky voice asked him. Hans turned his head and looked up to see a waitress behind the counter, pen and pad ready for his order. The smell of hairspray from her beehive hairdo could almost be tasted, and she wore too much makeup. Her gum could easily be seen as her lips flapped up and down chewing it, which completed the stereotypical waitress character so very common to stories such as this one.
"Uh," Hans began, not having thought of what he wanted
before hand. "A coffee and-"
"Cream and sugar?" She asked, finding it necessary to jot
everything down on her pad.
"No... black. And do you have any donuts?"
"Nope," she said, resting a hand against the counter and
continuing to chew her gum, which for all the world reminded Hans
of a cow chewing its cud.
"Muffins?" He asked.
"Nope... no donuts, no muffins," she said.
"Well, what DO you have?" he asked, getting impatient.
"Well," she said, looking up and down the counter for that
little clear plastic cakeholder which coffee shops always keep
their donuts and such in, and which have no name. "It was a busy
rushhour, but I think we have a danish left."
"What kind?"
She paused for a moment, obviously not knowing. "Let's find
out," she said, disappearing into the kitchen. Hans again took a
slow look around. All people had gone back to eating, and no
longer looked at him. "There you go," the waitress broke in,
startling him. She put down the coffee and a small plate with a
danish on it in front of Hans, who lowered his head to give the
danish a good sniff and get a closer look at it.
"What is it?" He asked.
"Prune, I think," she said. "Is that all?"
Hans briefly thought about not taking the danish, but he had
a long day of work ahead of him, and thought it would be best to
eat something before going in. "I... guess so," he muttered.
"Good, that'll be $2.45," she slapped the cheque beside him
onto the counter. "Pay up at the front... have a nice day," she
said, already walking away.
"$2.45 for a coffee and prune danish," Hans said, his head
still lowered.
"But I'm more than worth it," a voice responded.
Hans propped up his head and looked around for who had spoken.
"Hey!" The voice said again. "Down here." Hans stood and leaned
over the counter, looking for anyone hiding underneath it. "No,
no, no, stupid, HERE." The voice said again. "The danish," it
ended. Hans sat back down slowly, keeping his eye on the danish.
"What?" Hans asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Me... I'M talking to you," the danish said.
"My danish is talking to me?" Hans asked quietly.
"You got it, pal," the danish agreed. "And you're the only
one who can hear me. Y'know, I've been watching you for quite
some time, and lemmie tell you, YOU are in need of some help."
"So, you've been sent to me by some superhuman power in
order to help me through this trying time in my pointless and
painful existence?" Hans asked, surprised. He realized he was
being stared at. He lifted his head to look around and see
everyone eyeing him oddly. "What?" Hans barked at them all.
"Has society digressed to the point where a man can't even have a
private conversation with his own pastry, for God's sake?" No
one responded. Hans looked back down to his food.
"Well... something like that," the danish replied. "I'm a
demon who was sent... to torment someone." A deafening crack of
thunder dimmed the lights for a moment, providing ideal
atmosphere for such an eerie statement. "In order for us to
appear in the material plane, we must take on a physical form. I
was supposed to be a dune lizard, but I screwed up during the
incarnation process."
"How did you plan to torment someone as a dune lizard?" Hans
asked.
"Hey, enough with the questions, already," the danish lashed
back. "Now look, obviously I'm stuck in this form, so you're
going to have to help me out."
"No thanks," Hans said, forcing a smile. "I'm not into
helping demons for a living... and what was that about you saying
you've been watching me?"
"Nothing," the danish said. "Probably had something to do
with the author's complete lack of ability to think ahead for
plots."
"Probably," Hans agreed, nodding his head.
"Ok, now look, if you agree to help me out, I can get you
anything you want." The danish said, obviously trying to coax
Hans into helping it, as breakfast food often does. Hans was
about to say no, but froze in mid-refusal.
"Well..." he said, starting to change his mind.
"Tut-tut," the danish said. "Not another word. Just let me
touch your head, and I can read your every thought... your every
wish... your every dream." Hans looked around cautiously before
lowering his head, planting his forehead on the danish.
"Ah, that blond in sales, hmm?"
"Well..." Hans said, smiling and blushing a little, although
no one could see it due to his face beind against the counter.
"... yeah."
"Well, get me where I'm going, and she's yours," the danish
said. "... and you can get your head off me now." Hans raised
his head, a small circle of prune filling centred on his
forehead.
"Really?" Hans asked, genuinely excitied and now having no
trouble accepting the fact that he honestly believed that a $1.85
prune danish was going to give him what he wanted the most.
"You have my word on it, chief," the danish responded.
"Look, honey," the waitress' voice broke in. Hans looked up
to see her walking his way. "I don't care if you eat that thing,
or wear it, just as long as you pay for it, ok?"
"If I can touch her, I'll make her forget about you paying,"
the danish said.
"What a thoroughly FIENDISH thing to do," Hans thought to
himself. However, the idea somehow appealed to him. "Well then,
go ahead," Hans said to the danish, talking out of the side of
his mouth in attempt to be sneaky.
"Yeah, ok, I'll just reach out and give her a poke with one
of my fingers, right?" The danish asked. "Pick me up and touch
her with me." Hans' eyes darted from the waitress to the danish
back and forth several times before he picked it up.
"I think my danish... has gone bad," Hans said stiffly, not
being a very good actor. "Would you please..." he thrust it
towards her at arm's length. "SMELL it for me?" The waitress
looked at him for a moment before leaning down towards it. Hans
jerked the danish up, striking her on the cheek.
"Git outta here!" The waitress said, pulling her head back
in disgust and wiping off her cheek with a handtowel. "I'm too
busy for your games. And look at that thing," she gestured to
the demon-turned-danish. "It's ruined. Just take it and git
outta here, would you?" Hans smiled coyly. He slipped off the
stool, picked up his briefcase, and walked backwards down the
main aisle, cooly rocking back and forth, holding the danish much
as one would with a gun. He pulled his trenchcoat over himself
and placed the hat upon his head before bolting out of the shop
and back into the rainstorm.
"You're late," Hans' boss growled as Hans took off his
trenchcoat and placed the danish on his desk beside his hat.
"One more time, and you're fired, y'hear?"
"Tell him you know about him sleeping with his secretary,"
the danish told Hans.
"I know about you sleeping with Mrs. Freem," Hans said
steadily, looking his boss in the eye.
"... and that if he tries to fire you, you'll tell his wife
about it," the danish said.
"And if you try to fire me," Hans said, leaning on his desk
and being almost nosetonose with his boss. "I'll tell your
wife about it."
Hans' boss didn't say anything, but gave him a look that
could kill, and stormed out of Hans' office. Hans sat down,
winking at the danish, and began tacking away on his computer.
The morning soon passed, and Hans grabbed the danish and his
briefcase and left the building in search of a good place to eat
lunch.
"Look there, on the road," the danish broke in as Hans was
marching down the sidewalk. Hans looked around and soon saw it
a $50 bill plastered to the pavement by the rain, just past the
sidewalk. Hans looked around, but no one could be seen who
might've dropped it. He stepped down onto the road and placed
his briefcase down, resting the demonic pastry on top of it. He
leaned down to pick it up, and the danish pushed him into the
street in front of a speeding bus, which killed him.
[The moral of the story: Smoking is bad for your health.]
* At one point, this file passed through * * Babble BBS - 416-831-3108 *