Out of the frying pan
Chapter 4:
The next day was as Malik predicted. They were totally swamped with customers. The day before Marik had sold about fifty or sixty special sandwich meals. And today he was paying for it with a headache and a lack of aspirin.
Malik was back in the kitchen putting sandwiches together like mad. Every order that Marik got he told Malik in a hurry and his hikari was expected to dish it out in less than five seconds. It was only about ten thirty and the lunch rush wasn't even there yet.
In his mind, Malik was cursing Marik for selling so many sandwiches with that spell on them. What made him think they could handle this kind of rush by themselves? And all this trouble for outselling McDonalds? His yami was going insane.
Marik took another order, "Come Malik, hurry it up back there!"
"I'm going as fast as I can! If I go any faster, I'll get the orders mixed up and then what?"
In a while things slowed down a little bit and Marik started to relax at the register. But before he could take his on the job nap... Ring, Ring, Ring!
He picked up the phone, "Ugh, This I.H.O.S, home of the sandwich... What do you want?"
"Yes, I was wondering if you made deliveries?"
"...Nope, sorry."
"Aw, that's too bad. I'm about to host a dinner party and I was going to order one hundred of your two for one diets specials. But I can't pick them up myself, so I was wondering-"
Marik's eyes widened, "Say no more! I'll be right there with your food, man. Hang tight!" he dropped the phone and rushed back into the kitchen.
"Marik, why aren't you at the register?" Malik asked.
"Malik," he said going into the freezer, "You'll have to watch the register for a while. I got an errand to run."
"What?! That means I'll be running the place the place by myself! I can't do that! Where are you going?!"
"I got a delivery to make."
"We don't deliver!"
"Correction, we didn't deliver. But this is going to be an exception, because this guy I talked to on the phone is going to buy a hundred specials!"
"A hundred? Each of them sells for fifty bucks..."
"Yep!"
"That adds up to..." he counted in his head.
"Don't hurt yourself, Malik." He was halfway out the door, "I'll be back before you can say pickled-onions."
When Marik was gone and Malik became overrun with customers, he repeated 'pickled-onions' a thousand times out loud while taking down orders.
The place was overrun with hungry customers and Malik had to go back and forth from the kitchen to the register. He was starting to mix up the orders and in one case, a man ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and Malik gave him a grilled egg sandwich. The man whose order was mistaken had to be wheeled off to the hospital because he was highly allergic to eggs.
Malik was in dire need of assistance and since it seemed like Marik wouldn't be back for a while, he had to make out on his own.
As the line slowed a little bit and Malik began to catch his breath, someone else walked in. The same hobo from the day before walked up to the counter and starred at Malik.
"What?"
"I want another sandwich."
"Ugh." He shook his head, "I don't give out freebies. Marik shouldn't have, either."
He starred.
"...Listen, I'm sorry that you're a hobo. But there's really nothing I can do."
Still starring.
"Uh, come on. Can't you go somewhere else? Marik could be back any minute and I don't think he's very fond of you."
More stares and blank looks.
Malik was thinking of something else to say but before he could, he looked out of the window and saw a bunch of cars pull up.
"Oh, great... More people. This is not what I need!" he turned to the hobo, "You're going to have to move, I have a job to do."
"But what about my sandwich?"
"No!"
A group of people trotted up to the register. Malik moved the hobo aside and looked at the man in front of the line, "Welcome to I.H.O.S, home of the sandwich. What type of sandwich would you like today?"
As the people gave their orders and Malik made their sandwiches, he completely forgot about the hobo who was now bothering the other costumers.
He tried to get under the table to eat the gum stuck on the bottom. But it seemed that the people were starting to get annoyed at the fact that a smelly old man was rubbing up against their legs.
The hobo was having a hard enough time trying to eat the gum. Even though it had only been there for 48 hours, it was hard and chunky. His old and yellow teeth couldn't pry it off of the table.
His stomach growled again and he sat back against the leg of a woman. She screamed and kicked him in the back. He ignored the pain and got an idea. As the lady resumed eating, the hobo stuck his hand up on the tabletop and touched her sandwich.
She slapped his hand away and stormed up to Malik at the register, "Excuse me, sir!"
"Um, yes. May I help you?" he asked.
"I have had it up to here with the dirty people in this restaurant! If you don't clean it up, I will take my money elsewhere!"
"Huh?! What dirty people?"
She pointed to her table where the hobo was sitting in her seat, happily munching her sandwich, "That dirty person!"
"Oh no!" he rushed over the table and tugged at the hobo's arm, "Stop it! What are you doing?!"
"Lunch." He said plainly.
"That's not yours!"
"You wouldn't give me one... survival of the fittest."
"You certainly aren't fit. Husky, maybe."
"..."
"Listen, you have to give that back to that woman." He nodded towards the lady behind him.
He handed the sandwich to the lady. She looked it over and only a soggy, saliva-dripping corner was left. "This is disgusting!" She grabbed her jacket and ran out of the front doors.
"Look at what you did!" Malik shouted in disbelief.
"I gave her the sandwich. She didn't want it." He stuck the rest of it in his mouth.
"That's because you drooled all over it!"
Before the hobo could reply, Marik walked in through the door and up to Malik, "...Why aren't you at the register, Malik? And how come I saw some lady running out of here screaming? And why is that hobo here?"
"This hobo ate that lady's sandwich!"
"He did?"
"Yes, and he won't leave! I think-"
He raised his hand, "Not now, Malik. I got something to tell ya."
"..."
"After I did the delivery, I stopped off at McDonalds just to see what they're like. Do you know what they have?"
"A normal day."
"No! They have a staff! That's how they do it!"
"Do what?"
"Serve so many people! That's how they serve over six billion. They have more people. And that's one of the reasons we can hardly handle the crowd we have now. We need someone else."
"We're on a tight budget, Marik. We can't afford to hire some-"
"Then we'll hire someone that doesn't expect much in the way of a paycheck." He looked around and his eyes settled on the homeless man sitting by him, "...Hey, you."
"Me?" he asked.
"How would you like a job?"
"What?!" Malik shouted.
"... Uh, I dunno. What's a job like? Does it hurt?"
"Not unless you want it to." Marik replied, "You can work here."
"What do I get?"
"Well... what do you want?"
"When I'm on the streets, I get about two banana peels a day... If the garbage is good."
Marik grinned, "How about I give you four banana peels and half a sandwich a day. And I don't care what the garbage is like."
"Okay!" he said enthusiastically.
"Great, you start tomorrow."
Malik's jaw was practically on the floor, "M-Marik! You're not serious, are you? This is one of your jokes, right?"
"Nope. I'm telling you, we have to do this!"
"Ugh..."
Marik turned back to the hobo, "Well... what's your name?"
"My name? Gee, I don't know."
"What? You don't know?! How can you not know?"
He shrugged, "I don't think I've ever had a name. I was born a hobo, you know. But... I've been fond of the name Jim."
"Fine. You're new name is Jim. You can start sleeping in the dumpster again, since you work here. And tomorrow, I don't want you to come here smelly like trash. So, you can bathe every night in the kitchen sink."
"Marik!" Malik protested, "I wash my hands in that sink! I don't want hobo stink all over me!"
"He won't stink after a bath."
"Wow... this'll be weird. I've never worked with real people before." Jim said, "Come to think of it... I've never had a bath either."
Malik sighed, "Great."