"Yes!" Mung Daal said in vest. No longer an apprentice and his letter of recommendation to the university of master chefs excepted, he felt like he had the world at his feet. Stroking back his greased blue hair and smiling an enthusiastic grin he strolled to the front of the dinner. "Table for one my good man," he said to the green haired dog at the counter. The dog led him to a table and handed him a menu. Mung skimmed through the options, mumbling criticisms on what toppings really belonged on what dishes. He glanced over his shoulder to see six women gossiping to each other at another table.
"Hello ladies…" he said in a flirtatious manner. Half of women simply ignored him while the other three gave him disinterested looks. 'They're just to awe-struck to say anything' he thought.
"Hello there, what is it you'd like to order?" asked a tiny Yiddish voice from behind.
"Well if you don't mind I'd really like a…a…" Mung said as he looked at the speaker.
Hovering on two fairy wings in front of him was a petite woman dressed in green and wearing an apron that read the diner's name. Her curled, lavender hair was puffing out from under her large orange mushroom hat. "Cat got yer tongue handsome?" asked the woman.
Mung looked down and no, a cat didn't have his tongue. Stuck in a nervous stutter he tried everything to look back at the menu and find something he wanted.
"If yer not sure yet I could always come back-"
"No! No, no, no, no believe me I don't want to waist your time miss. Ugh…here we are. I'd like an order of beautiful eyes," he said looked straight into her gorgeous emerald eyes. "I mean…ugh…filly fries! Yeah, that's it, filly fries."
The waitress chuckled and wrote down the order in her notepad. "One order of filly fries coming right up. Espresso!" she abruptly screamed in the direction of the kitchen, "I need an order of filly fries!"
"Don't scream from the other side of the restaurant Truffles!" the cook behind the counter yelled back.
"I'll tell you not to scream!" she said flying towards the counter and away from Mung. Despite the onslaught of yelling from the pixie her presence left him a complete state of shock. All of the sudden he couldn't move, blink, or even breath. What a woman! Her shrill, ting voice was ringing like church bells in his head knocking all thoughts of cooking or food out. Mung had met plenty of women in his lifetime, all of which were fairly attractive and crazy about him, at least to his knowledge. And while a handful of them were obviously more attractive then the waitress it was a completely different reaction. Baffled by love a first sight, Mung knew he had to somehow get the pixie's attention. Once she came by again he'd strike up a conversation just to see what they had in common.
Gorging down his meal as quickly as possible Mung proclaimed, "Check please!"
Sure enough pixie came fluttering in. Mung's heart gave a jump but not before his stomach did. Then he remembered what to never do while eating filly fries. Slowly but surely the feeling of miniature horse feet beating against his stomach caught up to him.
"Oh, done already handsome? That was a big order," the pixie said a bit worried.
"Well…gah!…nothings to intense for me…I'm a-ah!…great chef…" Mung insisted painfully. He couldn't take it and stood up, griping his gut by the side kicking the pain that was rooting down his legs off. His actions looked much like a Scottish jig, but Mung knew he couldn't stop. The filly fries soon passed through him and he slouched back down, looking up at the giggling pixie waitress. 'I destroyed my chances of a perfect women' Mung thought, heartbroken.
The pixie put down her notepad and helped him sit up properly. "Oh my…you know how to dance don't cha' handsome?"
"What?"
"That was the sweetest digestion inducted jig I ever saw! Think you could write down your number on your check too handsome?" the pixie asked flirtatiously.
Mung grinned, writing down his bill and phone number on the piece of paper in front of him. He handed it to the pixie who then smiled at him hopefully, "you won't forget right?"
"A great chef never forgets a face."