The waitress's blue eyes never left the odd costumers. In many ways she was like most women who worked at diners, tired looking with bleach-blonde hair and a plastic smile. Everything was normal, down to the blue doll-dress uniform with the apron. Her hair was even in a hairnet. Her motivations were similar; family needed money so she'd started to pull double shifts.
She watched in quiet amusement and chomped down on her gum. It wasn't often that she watched customers. Well, scratch that. It wasn't often that she watched costumers and enjoyed it. People disgusted her with their untidy ways and habits to over-indulge in coffee. She carried quite a bit of cynicism for someone so young.
Even though these two were keeping her from being able to clean up they were worth watching. At first she'd thought that they were commonplace weirdos. They certainly looked it with those goofy cartoon masks. They had interesting conversations though, mostly about sugar. One of them had ordered the blueberry pie so that meant that any minute now there would be an explosive-
"HURK!"
-and there it was.
"What's wrong Cha-Cha?" the other man asked
"This pie is terrible!" Cha-Cha exclaimed as he stabbed it violently with his fork, "It's rotten, it's vile! Hazel, it's even worse then vegetables!"
"Can't be that bad," said Hazel as he reached over with his fork.
"DON'T-!"
His warning came too late as Hazel swallowed the piece of pie. Soon after he ate it he started to make motions that betrayed his want to rip his throat out so the pie wouldn't make it to his stomach. This motion too came too late. Grabbing a cup of coffee he wolfed it down, trying to get rid of the flavor.
"Dude, that was disgusting," Hazel said when he finished.
"I told you man," Cha-Cha sighed.
The waitress stifled a giggle and finished wiping the counter. Hazel looked up.
"Why're you so happy? You make this poison so you can watch people die? 'Cause I can totally dig that, just not with desserts."
Smiling the waitress said;
"No, I don't. Bob does. I just serve it. I'm happy because my shift's over soon."
"That's cool," said Hazel, "But I need to kill whoever made this. So if you could bring 'Bob' out here…"
Chewing her gum a bit the waitress went to the back of the diner. Bob had his back to her and she started to blow a large bubble with her gum. Then she popped it loudly to get his attention. He turned around and glared at her.
"What 'ya want now bitch?" he snapped.
Giving a terse smile she replied;
"Customer complaint. They say the pie's bad. Now if you would actually use ingredients that didn't fall off the back of a truck-"
"Now you're telling me how to run my business?" he snarled, "Outta my way."
On his way to the diner he shoved her roughly to the side. Putting one hand on her hips she used the other to flip him off behind his back. Then she grabbed a tray to gather used glasses from the counter and started to walk towards the door to the restaurant.
"You make this?" one of the odd men asked.
"Yeah, what's it to you?" Bob answered as the waitress walked through the door into the front of the restaurant.
An answering blam echoed through the diner.
"You killed him with one bullet? Dude, not cool."
"Yeah, but we're in a hurry," said Hazel, "We've got to go find .05 remember? We're not even near the city yet. Best get moving."
"Ohhhhhhhhh right," Cha-Cha nodded, "Totally slipped my mind."
They both turned to the waitress who was looking at them with shock.
"Guess we have to kill her now too. Don't worry; I'll make this one slow. Professional pride and all that," said Hazel.
Hazel shot out a bullet that was meant to incapacitate her. Instead of it impairing her movement nerves it bounced off of the tray that she shoved in front of her face. A minute later the tray flew like a discus towards the two men who managed to duck, keeping it from severing their heads. When they both looked up again the back door was flapping wildly. Outside a car started, taking off at what must've been a good hundred miles over the speed limit.
"Should we like, go after her?" asked Hazel.
Cocking his head Cha-Cha looked at the tray. It had buried itself into the wall. He bent down on his knees to get a closer look.
"Aren't these supposed to be made of plastic?" he said as he inspected the sharp metal edges, "Thought it was plastic when she came in."
"Unimportant," Hazel dismissed, "But I don't think she's going to be a problem. Just some bimbo waitress."
"Agreed," sighed Cha-Cha as he got up, "Just let me do the next one, 'kay? I haven't killed anyone in five hours now."
"I'm sorry man," Hazel said as they wandered to their car, "But guess what? I got Little Cadette's Cookies in the car. I was saving them."
"Thin mints?" Cha-Cha asked, perking up.
"Always."
.
.
.
Digging around in the glove compartment the waitress thought about how far she was from the diner. Quickly she did the calculations in her head. Going at two hundred miles an hour and seeing as she'd been travelling for half an hour that was one hundred miles. She visualized the map in her mind. As she did so she realized that she had already crossed the state line. Those weirdos were far behind her.
She smiled to herself. It was going to be an interesting few days. Finally there was some action again. Things had been slow to say the least over the past few months, what with holding a nine to five job. At first it had been fun and different. It had become boring quickly though.
From the glove compartment she took out a cell phone. Scrolling down the speed dial she made a call and kept one hand leisurely on the wheel. Her contacts were itching like a mother.
"On your way home?" a voice asked as the phone was picked up.
"Yeah, I'm on interstate 51. Got off early. Guess what happened at work today."
"I can't even begin to. Did you get coffee spilt on yourself?"
"Nope," she laughed, popping the p, "You're such a joker. But these two guys come in right, and they're complaining about the pie."
"This sounds like it'll be hilarious," yawned the voice on the other side of the phone, "But it can wait until you get home. Otherwise it's a waste of minutes."
"No," she said, "You're going to want to hear this. So Bob comes out, and this is great, they shoot him. I mean, like right in the head!"
The voice on the other end of the phone paused.
"Have you been drinking?"
"I'm hurt," she pouted, "this really happened. And get this, and then they say that they're looking for .05! Now what do you think of that?"
Once again there was another pause.
"You're sure you weren't drinking?"
"Come on," she whined, "I'm not this creative."
A small and rather raspy chuckle came from the other side of the line.
"How far are you from home?"
"About fifteen minutes," she said, "I drive fast."
"Well get home," the voice said, "We're going to have to figure out what to do with this information. Good work though. But slow down. We're all in trouble if you crash again."
"All right," she said as she hung up the phone.
Alchemist grinned in the review mirror. It wouldn't be long now.