"Mister Smithers ... What brings you here? " Moe looked surprised, but not all too surprised.
In a rather conspiratorial way, he leaned over the bar to whisper to Waylon, "You do know that my bar isn't anymore a bar for ... the likes of you ...? "
For a moment, Waylon remained confused, but eventually he separated himself from the troll-like man in front of him. With a shortspoken expression on his face he replied: "Yes, I do know that"
"Then what else could you want here?", Moe answered tersely.
"Hey, Moe, who's your friend?", Barney interjected.
Waylon produced a slight sanctimonious smile while listening to the completely befuddled voice of Moe's only remaining customer. Every other chair was empty or still dirty, or as the case may be, spilled with beer. Waylon wondered if Moe really didn't long for the days to be back, the days when this establishment had been called "Mo's" and had been cleaner than never before. At least Waylon knew, that he did.
Nevertheless, he did find a stool, looking comfortable enough to sit in and finally sat down.
Meanwhile, Moe had managed to refresh Barney's memory on Waylon's identity and turned his diffuse gaze back to his latest costumer so far.
"Very well then ... you don't wanna tell me what caused you to visit my rathole, but the least thing you can do is to order something!", he complained grumpily and Waylon didn't hesitate to nod in approvement.
"One whiskey please, and ...", he hesitated, " ... and furthermore, I'm here to ask if you might needed, I dunno, maybe needed a waiter? "
"Whaaaat?", Moe and Barney mumbled in unison.
"Yes, well, I got fired today, and -"
Waylon stopped abruptly. Both their faces began to get the better of him, and he slowly lowered his head. Maybe it wasn't a good plan after all.
Oh well. It still was his only plan.
"Listen, Mister Szyslak, I desperately need a job!", he finally said.
The addressee slowly shook his head. "Impossible! What could come over old Burns, that he'd let go of his most loyal bootlicker? "
Waylon felt his cheeks reddening, but not because of Moe's outrageous insult, but because of the sole mention of his bosses name. He missed him already. Normally at this time Waylon would lie in bed, knowing that he could look forward to a new next day, working with his crush and never leaving his presence. Now the only thing he was sure of, was the effect this whiskey would have on him, this glass that Moe had presented him.
"That old Burns wants to spy on me, doesn't he? Tell him that I don't have his stinkin' panda fur and that he won't get it!", Moe had hissed in the meantime.
"It has nothing to do with your illegal businesses ...!", Waylon assured him, slightly impatient, "I was fired because-", he searched his mind for a good excuse; he still wasn't all too comfortable with confessing his sexuality in public, " ... because I wanted to take a week off "
Yes, that sounded like a thing Burns would react negatively to.
Moe seemed to have the same opinion. Nevertheless, he insisted, "If you really want to work in my bar, you have to be satisfied with what you'll earn - and that's not much. And you als have to be a woman."
Waylon persisted, "I'll be very satisfied with what you pay me. I don't have to pay a rent for my apartment, I already own it, and I still live alone. I'm sure I'll be able to get something to eat for one person every day. And as for the last point, I'm -"
Waylon bit his tongue. He could not believe what he had wanted to put forward as an argument. He shook his head wildly. "What I mean is, the last request is ridiculous and sexist. Do you really intend to let me starve in my appartment, alone and with nothing to live for, just because I'm a man?"
"Yes." Moe replied snippy, and said nothing for a while. Then reality crashed in on him. Could this be his last chance? He had just been thinking about the kiss between the two of them, and now all of a sudden that exact man he had shared this kiss with, rushed into his rathole and wanted to apply for a job? Admittedly, it sounded ridiculous enough. Smithers and Moe.
Maybe it was at least worth one try.
"I mean no."
He shook Waylon's hand with a patronizing grin paving his face.
"Mister Smithers, you are hired"
"Whaaaat?", Barney slurred.
That was all going on in his head at this moment. An eternal progression of bewildered exclamations. Never in Barney's life had Moe needed an assistant waiter, especially a male assistant waiter. What made this Smithers so extraordinarily special that he was hired immediately?
If the game of life would be played after rules that would actually follow common logic, Barney would have been hired as a waiter at Moe's years ago!
But he wasn't, and all that was left for him to do, was to silently watch as Smithers and Moe shook hands and then arranged working hours.
"I need anotha' beer!" Barney finally exclaimed, because that was all that he could speak out loud about this situation. For once in an eternity Barney had wanted to make a clean sweep, and suddenly an ordinary lap dog ruined his night!
"That will be all, I guess", sighed Waylon and downed his whiskey. Now he just had to draw Mister Burns' attention to him, and somehow his crazy plan would work.
He turned to the exit, when it suddenly occured to him, that at one'o'clock in the morning, pubs like this were normally already closed for hours.
All at once it struck him as odd that he had found these two men at this ungodly time, all alone. Was that normal for them?
But with a simple shrug, he accepted it. He would occupy himself with Szyslak's privacy early enough in the next morning. That night he wanted to keep his head as clear as possible.
"Good night, Mister Szyslak", he said to the bartender respectfully, put two dollars on the counter and slipped through the door.
However, as he passed the last stained glass window of the bar, he couldn't prevent himself from overhearing Moe's scratchy voice, boasting with pride, "Did you hear that, Barney ? I'm Mister Syzlak! No one has ever treated me with this much respect since I threatened that Jimbo kid with a knife! "
This time, it didn't take long for the boozehound to response: "And we'll still call you Moe, even if you hire twenty more of Burns' bootlickers! "
Waylon rolled his eyes, even though, in amusement. His original plan had been to get hired by Moe, then engage him in a romance, then make Mister Burns somehow jealous. But he had to admit that this plan was a little bit too rudimentary for his taste.
And even if he would really be boneheaded enough to consider going for this plan, he wouldn't be able to break Moe's heart this easily. From what he heard about the bartender's state of mind, he assumed it would be a very bad idea. Furthermore, he didn't really think he could love anyone but Mister Burns. For years now he had yearned for no one other, he wouldn't be able to pull off a role like this.
There had to be another way to make Burns jealous. Maybe he could just straight out be honest with Moe and let him in on the whole thing. For a few dollars worth of a reward - yes, exactly, that was it! A greedy man like Moe would always be open for such schemes, that man would sell himself for money!
Without realizing it, Waylon grinned from ear to ear. He couldn't believe that in this delusional state he had actually wanted Moe to fall in love with him - ridiculous! Not even Moe could be so desperate. And neither Waylon. No, this plan was much better. Waylon knew of his own value as a personal assistant and door mat. Never in one lifetime would Burns be able to find such a literal lap dog like him. And when said desperately sought-after lap dog would then also be seen in other hands, it would certainly cause the volcano to erupt.
Of course, to pay for Moe would cost a lot, but after all, he had created an emergency savings account years ago.
And this was nothing less than an emergency. Without Mister Burns, suicide was his only other option, and so far he did not want to go that far.
With a soft smile, and sort of unsteady on his feet, he staggered his way home and finally disappeared into the darkness of the streets of Springfield.
Meanwhile, Barney layed flat on the counter and wondered if it was still not too late for his wish to make a clean sweep with Moe.
With his restless gaze, he stared at the bartender.
"Ahhh, Barney", Moe sighed, and suddenly sounded tired and even a little friendly, "I know exactly what you need"
He paused for a moment, and Barney cursed himself for getting his hopes up, after hearing Moe continue: "I'll get ya anotha' Duff"
No, you Idiot, Barney thought.
"Yes, you idiot", he replied, "but I don't have any money no more ... ! "
"Well, I wanted to throw you out long ago anyway!", Moe croaked indifferently, and once again, his old shotgun was targeted at a spot between Barney's eyes .
"Is that really necessary ...?", Barney asked.
"Yes", Moe shouted, "I still gotta get to my apartment this night!"
Barney smiled. Finally, something to keep the conservation running for another while. With an elaborate smile he accused, "That's not true and you damn well know it! "
The bartender winced a little, but did not lower his weapon.
"What are you talkin' about, you're drunk! Of course I have my appartment!"
"Then why haven't you closed earlier, to get to it?", Barney countered.
For a while the two remained silent.
But eventually Barney gave up, "Moe, I can understand that you don't want to talk about having to spend the night in the ladie's room"
"Hey, I don't sleep in the ladies room! You know that, that's my office!", Moe replied sharply. "I sleep in the beer cellar ... "
"If you have problems of any sort, you know you can move in with me"
"We had this argument before. I will not abate your debts, just because you give me a nice bed with a soft mattress, a clean blanket with roach- free pillows-", he stopped aprubtly and didn't continue.
A smile spread on Barney's face, "Do you think $ 45 for a night is fair enough?"
"That's twice the debt you get into for one night at my bar!", Moe shouted.
"45 bucks or you can sleep on a comfortable, cold beer barrel. Your choice!"
Moe bared his teeth, but finally agreed reluctantly.
Meanwhile, Barney realized that he probably shouldn't look so happy about Moe, going to stay with him. But nevertheless he couldn't contain his glee. Maybe this was the one decisive step to happiness.