YEEYEEYEEE(vwoosh, area change)
Mmm. Cheeseburgers.
The beefy patties simmered on the burning stove. Greasy perfection, one might say. Or cardiovascular arrest, another might infer. But what ever you thought, in the end, it just tasted damn good. Videl stood there...waiting...waiting...and waiting some more.
"Order up!" the chef yelled dinging the sparkly little order bell.
Videl walked over to the window, grabbed the hotdog-fry combo to add to the already huge pile of orders she had taken, and journeyed over to table number twenty-two. Gracefully balancing drinks and dinners of all cholesterol levels, she made her way over to the party of fifteen.
"Here we go," she said easing the plates onto the table and distributing the many large soft-drinks. "Now, enjoy yourselves." She forced what she thought to be a cheerful smile, turned on her heal, and walked toward another table to prepare to take orders.
Being a waitress wasn't the most entertaining or glamorous job in the world, but it put desperately needed cash into her wallet, and saying she needed money was an understatement. Working for the police during the day and waitressing in the evening wore her out, but she refused to ever give up. Videl Satan was not a quitter.
Her father was eventually going to pay for an apartment or something just get the media going on about what a 'nice father' he was and- Videl thought this to be the main reason- to get her out of the house. It was inevitable, once she left, either by will or by force, she was on her own.
At the moment, Videl was working at some diner near the highway. She dispised the uniform saying that someday, when she quit this job, she would burn it to ashes....and then some. What satisfaction it should bring. Why will it bring such pleasure you may ask? Well there is one reason and one reason only....it was pink. NOT ONLY PINK, but Pepto-Bismol pink.
The skirt raised above her knees to about mid thigh -shudder-, it hugged her thighs and butt -gag-, and the top only had enough buttons to go up to her chest revealing her overly squished breasts -spew-. Not only did it restrict her breathing, oh ho ho no. She had to learn to sit down all over again afraid that some horrid day she might just 'fall out' of the slutty nurse-like uniform. "Family diner my butt. This is just like a freaking fifties version of Hooters."
Giving an evil grin at the thought, she walked away from the happy family, orders in hand, and prepared to let the chef do the rest so she could take a break. "Hey, Videl, could you get table twelve for me, please! My hands are full!!" a fellow worker bagged while being trampled by little children. Videl sighed. She wanted a break! She looked over at her co-worker and suddenly, Videl's face paled. It was the horror of all horrors, the sum of all fears, the end of all human existence, the whole reason why there is the saying 'there is nothing to fear but fear itself ,' because this is the TRUE meaning of fear, it was a...a...a kiddy birthday party...NO! AND ON A THURSDAY NIGHT OF ALL THINGS!! "Uh...ugh....sure thing," Videl said believing she just signed her death warrant. "This is WHY I don't work WEEKENDS!!"
JELLY BEAN!
Hunger, cold, hunger, sweat, hunger, voices, hunger, marshmallows, hunger, cheese.
Food. Such a wonderful thing. Its sole purpose in the world was to nourish, to fill, to create happiness and fat people. That is what food it about until you need it. Not just need it, but when your stomach becomes the brain, when all you see seems edible, even car leather. Oh yes, leather, cows, meat, burgers...WITH CHEESE! His stomach growled, teeth chattered, body shook, vision blurred, his whole body was screaming 'Feed me! Feeed me!'.....or maybe that was just his imagination, but still, if stomachs could talk -which would be too freaky for comfort- his would be shouting obscenities.
Gohan was now cruising down I-90....or at least he was pretty sure he was. Gohan wasn't directionally inclined, so he really couldn't tell. Glancing left and right, Gohan was prepared to cut-off any driver to get to precious food. Suddenly, what seemed to be a gift from god -he hasn't had a lot of those lately- a 1950's styled diner appeared to his right. Impulsively, Gohan sped into the parking lot, drooling at the oncoming promise of food. Stepping out of the car and slamming the door, Gohan was overwhelmed by the glowing red neon light that radiated from the building. He could already smell the fraguent burgers and French fries. Making his way to the door Gohan heard something....something suspicious, scary. It was squealing...and coming closer. "GAH!!" Gohan screamed diving out of the way of the stampeding children. "I CALL SHOTGUN!!" one boy shouted after trampling over Gohan's back. "NOW WAY!! ITS MY PARTY!" another boy, smaller, screamed stepping on Gohan's head. Laying there on the dirty pavement, white shirt not-so-white anymore, head throbbing, back imbedded with footprints from the many children -which he counted to be around seventeen followed by a tiny rodent- Gohan slowly made his way to his feet.
Grumbling and limping into the diner, he seated himself. Enclosed in a tufted red-vinyl booth, Gohan ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a triple-thick chocolate milk shake to ease his sorrows.
In his minds ear, his mothers voice replayed itself: My chicken stir-fry and soup is better than any lousy cheeseburger.
"Make that two cheeseburgers," Gohan amended as the waitress finished taking his order and started to turn away from the booth. "Skipped lunch, huh?" she asked.
If you eat too many cheeseburgers, then soon you'll look like a cheeseburger.
"And an order of onion rings," Gohan said defiantly, certain that farther north in the mountains his mother had just flinched at the psychic awareness of his betrayal. Mothers have those sixth senses that men will never be able to explain. "Hmm. Big appetite. Same here," the waitress said.
She was a slender blue-eyed black haired girl with a rosy complexion. Or maybe it was the red neon lights that gave her the color of that flower, but what he did know was that, even though she probably not a reporter, and most likely not a liberal, she was exactly the kind of woman that haunted his mother's dreams.
Gohan wondered if she was possibly flirting. She wasn't smiling, and though her eyes were inviting, the comment about his appetite might have only been small talk. He wasn't nearly as smooth with the ladies as he would have liked to have been. If she had given him an opening, he was incapable of taking it. One rebellion a night was enough. Cheeseburgers, yes, but not both cheeseburgers and a city girl. He wasn't sure if his mother's heart- and psychic awareness- could take it.
He could only say, "Give me extra cheddar, please, a-and lots of onions."
After slathering enough ketchup to kill a donkey on his burgers, he ate every bite of what he ordered. He drained the milk shake so completely that the sucking noises of the empty glass caused nearby adult diners to glare at him because of the bad example he was setting for their children, but in his mind, the children were already corrupt, so he really didn't mind the multitude of evil-eye glares being set upon him.
Finishing, Gohan left a generous tip for the beautiful girl. As he was heading for the door the waitress said, "You look a lot happier going out than you did coming in." "I was trampled by children," Gohan mumbled. "Oh yes. The birthday party. That was hell." The waitress shook her head. "Seventeen oh them?"
"Nineteen...not including the gerbil."
After standing there a few moments, Gohan's brain raced, searching for something to say. "I..uh...bought a convertible today," he said insanely.
"Cool," she said. "Been my dream since a was a little kid."
"What color is it?"
"Bright aqua metallic." "Sounds pretty."
"It flies."
"I'll bet."
"Like a rocket," he said as he realized he was lost in oceanic depths of her blue eyes.
"Well uh ," he said nervously, "t-take care."
"You too," said the waitress.
He went to the entrance. On the threshold, holding the door open, Gohan looked back, hoping that the would be staring after him. She had turned away, however, and was walking to the booth he had recently vacated. Her slender ankles and shapely legs were lovely, but one thing tugged in the back of his mind.
She never smiled.
The plot thickens::in background:: WHAT PLOT?!
Mmm. Cheeseburgers.
The beefy patties simmered on the burning stove. Greasy perfection, one might say. Or cardiovascular arrest, another might infer. But what ever you thought, in the end, it just tasted damn good. Videl stood there...waiting...waiting...and waiting some more.
"Order up!" the chef yelled dinging the sparkly little order bell.
Videl walked over to the window, grabbed the hotdog-fry combo to add to the already huge pile of orders she had taken, and journeyed over to table number twenty-two. Gracefully balancing drinks and dinners of all cholesterol levels, she made her way over to the party of fifteen.
"Here we go," she said easing the plates onto the table and distributing the many large soft-drinks. "Now, enjoy yourselves." She forced what she thought to be a cheerful smile, turned on her heal, and walked toward another table to prepare to take orders.
Being a waitress wasn't the most entertaining or glamorous job in the world, but it put desperately needed cash into her wallet, and saying she needed money was an understatement. Working for the police during the day and waitressing in the evening wore her out, but she refused to ever give up. Videl Satan was not a quitter.
Her father was eventually going to pay for an apartment or something just get the media going on about what a 'nice father' he was and- Videl thought this to be the main reason- to get her out of the house. It was inevitable, once she left, either by will or by force, she was on her own.
At the moment, Videl was working at some diner near the highway. She dispised the uniform saying that someday, when she quit this job, she would burn it to ashes....and then some. What satisfaction it should bring. Why will it bring such pleasure you may ask? Well there is one reason and one reason only....it was pink. NOT ONLY PINK, but Pepto-Bismol pink.
The skirt raised above her knees to about mid thigh -shudder-, it hugged her thighs and butt -gag-, and the top only had enough buttons to go up to her chest revealing her overly squished breasts -spew-. Not only did it restrict her breathing, oh ho ho no. She had to learn to sit down all over again afraid that some horrid day she might just 'fall out' of the slutty nurse-like uniform. "Family diner my butt. This is just like a freaking fifties version of Hooters."
Giving an evil grin at the thought, she walked away from the happy family, orders in hand, and prepared to let the chef do the rest so she could take a break. "Hey, Videl, could you get table twelve for me, please! My hands are full!!" a fellow worker bagged while being trampled by little children. Videl sighed. She wanted a break! She looked over at her co-worker and suddenly, Videl's face paled. It was the horror of all horrors, the sum of all fears, the end of all human existence, the whole reason why there is the saying 'there is nothing to fear but fear itself ,' because this is the TRUE meaning of fear, it was a...a...a kiddy birthday party...NO! AND ON A THURSDAY NIGHT OF ALL THINGS!! "Uh...ugh....sure thing," Videl said believing she just signed her death warrant. "This is WHY I don't work WEEKENDS!!"
JELLY BEAN!
Hunger, cold, hunger, sweat, hunger, voices, hunger, marshmallows, hunger, cheese.
Food. Such a wonderful thing. Its sole purpose in the world was to nourish, to fill, to create happiness and fat people. That is what food it about until you need it. Not just need it, but when your stomach becomes the brain, when all you see seems edible, even car leather. Oh yes, leather, cows, meat, burgers...WITH CHEESE! His stomach growled, teeth chattered, body shook, vision blurred, his whole body was screaming 'Feed me! Feeed me!'.....or maybe that was just his imagination, but still, if stomachs could talk -which would be too freaky for comfort- his would be shouting obscenities.
Gohan was now cruising down I-90....or at least he was pretty sure he was. Gohan wasn't directionally inclined, so he really couldn't tell. Glancing left and right, Gohan was prepared to cut-off any driver to get to precious food. Suddenly, what seemed to be a gift from god -he hasn't had a lot of those lately- a 1950's styled diner appeared to his right. Impulsively, Gohan sped into the parking lot, drooling at the oncoming promise of food. Stepping out of the car and slamming the door, Gohan was overwhelmed by the glowing red neon light that radiated from the building. He could already smell the fraguent burgers and French fries. Making his way to the door Gohan heard something....something suspicious, scary. It was squealing...and coming closer. "GAH!!" Gohan screamed diving out of the way of the stampeding children. "I CALL SHOTGUN!!" one boy shouted after trampling over Gohan's back. "NOW WAY!! ITS MY PARTY!" another boy, smaller, screamed stepping on Gohan's head. Laying there on the dirty pavement, white shirt not-so-white anymore, head throbbing, back imbedded with footprints from the many children -which he counted to be around seventeen followed by a tiny rodent- Gohan slowly made his way to his feet.
Grumbling and limping into the diner, he seated himself. Enclosed in a tufted red-vinyl booth, Gohan ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a triple-thick chocolate milk shake to ease his sorrows.
In his minds ear, his mothers voice replayed itself: My chicken stir-fry and soup is better than any lousy cheeseburger.
"Make that two cheeseburgers," Gohan amended as the waitress finished taking his order and started to turn away from the booth. "Skipped lunch, huh?" she asked.
If you eat too many cheeseburgers, then soon you'll look like a cheeseburger.
"And an order of onion rings," Gohan said defiantly, certain that farther north in the mountains his mother had just flinched at the psychic awareness of his betrayal. Mothers have those sixth senses that men will never be able to explain. "Hmm. Big appetite. Same here," the waitress said.
She was a slender blue-eyed black haired girl with a rosy complexion. Or maybe it was the red neon lights that gave her the color of that flower, but what he did know was that, even though she probably not a reporter, and most likely not a liberal, she was exactly the kind of woman that haunted his mother's dreams.
Gohan wondered if she was possibly flirting. She wasn't smiling, and though her eyes were inviting, the comment about his appetite might have only been small talk. He wasn't nearly as smooth with the ladies as he would have liked to have been. If she had given him an opening, he was incapable of taking it. One rebellion a night was enough. Cheeseburgers, yes, but not both cheeseburgers and a city girl. He wasn't sure if his mother's heart- and psychic awareness- could take it.
He could only say, "Give me extra cheddar, please, a-and lots of onions."
After slathering enough ketchup to kill a donkey on his burgers, he ate every bite of what he ordered. He drained the milk shake so completely that the sucking noises of the empty glass caused nearby adult diners to glare at him because of the bad example he was setting for their children, but in his mind, the children were already corrupt, so he really didn't mind the multitude of evil-eye glares being set upon him.
Finishing, Gohan left a generous tip for the beautiful girl. As he was heading for the door the waitress said, "You look a lot happier going out than you did coming in." "I was trampled by children," Gohan mumbled. "Oh yes. The birthday party. That was hell." The waitress shook her head. "Seventeen oh them?"
"Nineteen...not including the gerbil."
After standing there a few moments, Gohan's brain raced, searching for something to say. "I..uh...bought a convertible today," he said insanely.
"Cool," she said. "Been my dream since a was a little kid."
"What color is it?"
"Bright aqua metallic." "Sounds pretty."
"It flies."
"I'll bet."
"Like a rocket," he said as he realized he was lost in oceanic depths of her blue eyes.
"Well uh ," he said nervously, "t-take care."
"You too," said the waitress.
He went to the entrance. On the threshold, holding the door open, Gohan looked back, hoping that the would be staring after him. She had turned away, however, and was walking to the booth he had recently vacated. Her slender ankles and shapely legs were lovely, but one thing tugged in the back of his mind.
She never smiled.
The plot thickens::in background:: WHAT PLOT?!