Near the back of the diner in a booth near the restrooms, the thin man sat nervously sipping at his soda. His eyes darted back and forth as though he feared that someone would recognize him. This was foolish for several reasons.
Chief among these would be that there were no customers in the entire diner. The only other person that the thin man new was in the restaurant was the bitter old waitress who had sighed so theatrically in frustration when the thin man sent back the sandwich he had ordered because it had cheese on it and he was lactose intolerant. Despite the fact that she was not currently visible, the thin man was certain that the bitter old waitress was still present in the diner because she emerged from the kitchen periodically to sullenly refill his coffee and ask if he was FINALLY ready for dessert. Presumably, there was also some cook in the kitchen but the thin man had yet to see him. As for the waitress, she was clearly too angry at the world to care who he was.
Another reason it made no sense for the thin man to worry about being recognized was the fact that whatever damage would be done by him being recognized was obviously already done because there had been at least several other customers in the diner until about half an hour ago and almost all of them had seemed to recognize him. However, that was hardly surprising since millions of people saw him appearing on television every day as Sideshow Mel.
"He's about half an hour late now according to the clock on the wall over there," Mel quietly muttered,"He'd better show up. I paid Fat Tony a small fortune to set this meeting up. He wouldn't have cheated me, would he?? I suppose that mobsters are notoriously untrustworthy fellows but it seems as though it would be poor business practice to leave so many unsatisfied customers. Yes, very poor business practices indeed."
At that moment, the front door of the diner swung open. Each of the ancient hinges attaching the door to the wall creaked loudly when this happened as though to complain about the amount of effort required to grant each customer entrance. A tall figure stepped out of the darkness and into the dimly lit diner. He wore a tan trench-coat over what looked like a very expensive suit. The shoes he wore on his massive feet spoke of their wearer's opulence as eloquently as the suit did. Beneath the bowler hat atop his head, the brown hair of the man in the doorway was fashioned into dreadlocks and tied back neatly into a ponytail.
"Bob!!! It certainly is good to see you," Mel said as he got up,"even if you are arriving considerably later than you were supposed to." Mel tried to keep the irritation and anxiety out of his voice because it was important to him that this appointment go well.
"Finding this place proved a great deal more difficult than I had foreseen," Bob said as he shook hands with Mel,"but if my tardiness truly poses such a problem for you then you really shouldn't have picked this diner way out here in the middle of nowhere. Were you planning to get some shopping done in that charming Ogdenville Outlet Mall which I saw across the street after this or something?"
"I was concerned about being recognized,"Mel said defensively as the two men sat down in the booth,"If one of my fellow Springfieldians were to spot me with you, the consequences could be dire indeed."
"Please," Bob said with amusement,"You have a giant bone stuck in your blue beehive hairstyle. If you really were all that keen on not getting recognized, perhaps you should've done something about that. I mean, really!!! Mel, you might as well be wearing that grass skirt they have you wear on your little tv show as you let that accursed clown throw pies in your face." Bob shuddered slightly as he made that reference to Krusty but seemed to not notice doing so.
The double doors leading to the back room of the diner opened and the elderly waitress slowly started walking towards the table where the two men sat. She got out a small notepad and a pencil as she turned to Bob.
"What'll it be, hun?," she asked in a disinterested voice.
"Let's see," Bob said with a grin creeping onto his face,"I'll have the roast pheasant under glass with a tin of Beluga caviar and a bottle of your finest Chablis." Mel rolled his eyes with irritation and the waitress merely stared at Bob without saying anything.
"Oh, very well," Bob said with a sigh,"nothing for me, madame. I shall merely partake of the delightful ambiance which permeates this establishment and nothing more."
"What about you?," the waitress said as she turned to Mel without saying a word in response to Bob,"You ready for dessert yet?"
"Not at the moment, Mildred,"Mel said to the waitress as he noticed her name on her nametag,"I believe I shall be savoring this PHENOMENAL sandwich for some time yet." Mildred turned around and walked into the back room of the diner without saying a word.
"Well, then," Bob asked a few minutes after she left,"what exactly is this deal so important that you were willing to pay Fat Tony so handsomely to arrange a meeting with me so we can discuss it?"
"We just finished taping the last episode of this season," Mel began,"and I've had it. The thought of eventually going back in there to record more episodes with him until my contract is finished makes my blood boil. I have been demeaned by him on a daily basis for long enough. I'm sick of playing the being just the lowly fool of an idiotic clown. I can no longer bear to look myself in the mirror. That man is like a cancer eating away at all that is good in the world and ending his life would be doing the world a favor. I want you to help me kill Krusty the clown."
"Interesting," said Bob,"But why come to me? My hatred of Krusty knows no limits, true. However, I doubt I'd be much help to you. Although I am loathe to admit it, I've never even managed to actually kill a single person. Why, even the youngest Simpson child has come closer to killing someone and she is but an infant. You, with the access to Krusty that is granted to you because you still work on that insipid show, would actually be more likely to succeed in doing away with Krusty without me getting involved. "
"Yes," Mel stammered,"well...ummm...ahh...that is...er...That is a rather good point. I suppose I should have thought of that. The strange thing is that, looking back on it now, it seems that I did think of all that somewhere deep within the back of my mind. The money I paid Fat Tony to arrange all this certainly could have been put to better use. Yes, that's especially true now that the studio made everyone take a pay cut because Krusty got that raise he demanded because he needed to pay off those gambling debts. Oh, why did I waste my money arranging this? What am I going to do with myself now?"
"I understand, I understand. You see," Bob began in a tone which was clearly meant to indicate that the speech he was in the process of beginning was meant to be an attempt to answer Mel's questions,"I would say that I've always wanted more from life than it was had any intention of actually offering me. When I was but a lad in school, I always managed to obtain good grades with little or no real effort. Upon graduating, I searched far and wide for some form of employment where I could help my fellow man, bring a bit of culture into this insipid little world, or fulfill some other such goal brought into being by the absurd idealism of youth. I bounced around the world for several years working here and there. A strong sense of self-loathing began eating away at my soul as I saw the lack of meaning in my life and took a hard look at the man I was becoming. My idiot brother, Cecil, brought me along with him one day to one of the little auditions he was going to in his quest to become some big rich celebrity. That was the day that I first had the rather dubious honor of making Krusty's acquaintance. My brother, you see, wished to get into show business because he was under the impression that if he were famous everyone would always be telling him how great and wonderful he was. Naturally, that made it quite difficult for him to take Krusty's brand of abuse with good humor. Krusty explained to Cecil about how he looked pathetic and depressing as a clown instead of amusing and about how that sort of ruined the whole thing. I'm not certain whether it was because he sensed something about me or because he just enjoys torturing people but Krusty then decided to try out his little routine again with me playing the part of the fool. His tired old schtick barely fazed me. It's hard to care about getting a pie in the face when one can so clearly see the emptiness that threatens to consume each of us and the world we live in as well. Naturally, as you are aware no doubt aware, Krusty then hired me to be on his puerile television program. I was, to my great embarrassment, actually quite excited upon initially receiving the job offer. I thought that this would prove to be an excellent forum for bringing culture to the masses. It most likely isn't necessary to tell you that this didn't prove to be the case. After this horrid situation lasted for what seemed like an eternity, I found myself spending more and more time just sitting and taking stock of my life. I was being publicly humiliated and demeaned several times a week by this sadistic clown. To make matters worse, I was also responsible for the drastic decline in test scores amongst the youth of America. I decided that it would be no real sin to arrange for this cad that I found myself working for from the public eye and arranging for a program of more aesthetic merit to replace his on the air. It was at that point in time that I framed Krusty for murder. The other bane of my existence, that spiky-haired simpleton named Bart, also came into my life at this time in my life. I loathed him from the moment I first laid eyes upon him, even before he exposed me for framing Krusty and sent me to prison. It is clear immediately that the Simpson lad is the product of the brand of parenting which was one of the numerous unpleasant things to spring out of the cultural cesspool of the 1960's. I could see that on each of the many occasions when the Simpson lad misbehaved he was probably given a lecture about his feelings by lazy parents who wished to avoid resorting to older, more effective methods of dealing with such situations. He seemed to be arrogant and ignorant beyond belief. Along with Krusty, Bart came to symbolize in my mind all that is wrong with the world. I have, as you well know, made numerous attempts to dispose of one or both of them. Eventually, I managed to discern how I died a little bit inside with each of these attempts that I made. Worse, I also saw that all my efforts did as little to better society as Raskolnikov's murder of the old pawnbroker woman. Oh, many times have I tried to escape this life but something always thwarts me, whether it is that idiot Wiggum deciding that he'll arrest me even if I hadn't done anything wrong or if it is a strange set of circumstances sending the Simpson family halfway across the world to the small town where I've settled. Lately, I've been finding myself unable to sleep because of how much I worry about dragging my lovely wife and son down into the mess I've made of everything."
"Interesting," Mel said after sitting in stunned silence for a few minutes after Bob had finished talking,"But then what is the solution? Would it be best for me to just stay where I am in life and take Krusty's abuse forever?"
"Ahh, I know not," Bob confessed,"Perhaps there is no peace to be found anywhere for men such as us. Regardless, it appears there's nothing further so I suppose that I had really best be on my way. After all, we wouldn't want for you to be seen with a wanted criminal like myself, now would we?"
Bob chuckled as he got up and left the booth to show that the last statement was meant as a joke. For a long time after Bob left, Mel remained seated and tried to think of something to do or somewhere to go next and found himself unable to do so.