So pleased with ourselves for using so many verbs and nouns. (924 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.94 on 25 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Durae (View user info) at 2004-11-15 21:59:55 EST
There is a man who sits at a diner alone, reading a book that he took out from the library across the street. He lives in a town full of liquor stores and alcoholics, drugs and dealers, welfare and waitresses. He sits aware of where he is and aware that he doesn't belong. He is also aware and ashamed of how much he does belong.
The waitresses notice him without noticing him. He comes in often, they all know what he will ask for and get it for him before he sits down in his normal spot. Against the wall, in a miniature booth, he bends his tall, lanky body into sharp angles to fit himself in. His head remains buried in his book until someone surprises him by stepping into his bubble. Then he looks up and smiles.
He smiles at a waitress as if she had just brought him an unexpected birthday present - the one he had secretly wanted most of all and he can't believe she remembered and knew. He smiles as though he's embarrassed she has to pay attention to him. The smile is bashful and spreads throughout his reddened face making other faces turn red to see it. He is the sort of regular who understands that people work in the kitchen, at the bar, wiping tables. That a special individual serves him every night. Someone who is working to support her four girls, working to buy their prom dresses and her own nightly six-pack of discounted beer or bottle of the cheapest wine. He smiles because he knows their lives without knowing them and he's sorry to be another table asking for something.
Other regulars will come in and throw their spoon back at the newest waitress for not rinsing it off under boiling water first. They will throw packets of equal on the floor because they always get sweet n' low and if you don't know that then you obviously belong in the diner working the night shift. They refuse to drink out of ceramic mugs and demand styrofoam every single morning at 5:00am. These regulars are old, but still manage to act like small children. Some have been coming since the 50s when the diner first opened and they worked at a factory that towered over the boxcar diner from across the street. They love the diner and the role it plays in the stability of their daily lives.
He loves the diner too although the factory has been closed since he was born and he doesn't ask for much from the servers. Refills are unnecessary to him, there is no urgency to his order. His mind drowns in the ambient noise of the other customers' conversations, pushing his typical frenzied chains of thought underwater so that they become only quiet gurgles, allowing him the focus to absorb a sentence in his book. A book from the small, rarely used library across the street attracts his face like a magnet. The library is always full of children. The children are forced to go through school. Adults are the sparse workers behind the counters and the herders of children, not the readers. Very few people come to the diner to read and it would seem that very few people in the town know how to read.
The man thinks that sometimes. He knows it's not true and he tries not to hate his town so much, but sometimes misunderstanding gets mistranslated into hostility. Frustration urges pounding fists, and sometimes he runs full speed into walls on purpose. He just feels a need to push against something as hard as he can. Tension needs release, but the wall never moves for him. He starts laughing at the image of himself fighting his futile battles against walls. Just thinking about running into one relaxes him. Then he notices that this whole time he's been staring at the same page. It's too quiet for him to concentrate and as usual his mind has wandered into self evaluations.
He looks up for the bill, but sees no one in the diner. The place is completely empty. The jukebox ran out of requests, the bar rush apparently had cleared out already and the staff must be out back smoking. He looks at his watch, but the time is only 1:46am. The place should be packed. He hums the twilight zone theme, wishing he was so lucky to be a part of a plot worthy of the show and steps down from the raised booth.
Walking toward the back of the main dining room to the bathroom he sees plates of food on tables and discarded coats and purses. Then his peripheral vision spots a woman sitting alone in the corner. She sits like it's Sunday with a stack of pancakes and a glass of orange juice. Her pancakes are half eaten and abandoned because her face is pressed inches away from the table, eyes glaring at a crossword puzzle. She abruptly sits up thrusting back into the seat and utters a strange mix of gutteral and aspirated noise. One hand slides the folded paper off the table. Not satisfied she throws her pen down at it too.
"what are you staring at?"
"Oh! I uhh," he clears his throat, "thought the place was empty. You surprised me."
"The place is empty, you should stop doing drugs."
"What? I don't.."
"I'm kidding. But you're missing the spectacle outside."
He looks out the window to see flashing lights and the emptied diner crowding around some sort of redneck emergency in the parking lot.
"Do you know what happened?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Two women started fighting over some toothless guy, both were drunk, one was pregnant. Same old Friday night."
The two stare at each other for a moment, she wears a look of indignation and he struggles to hold the gaze. He bends down, not to avoid her eyes, but to pick up her scorned puzzle and pen.
"Do you want these?"
"Not really."
"Well here."
"I was going to pick that up eventually."
"Of course you were."
"I was!"
"I didn't say you weren't going to!"
She slumped into her seat and he could feel her watch him as he went into the men's room. Standing there alone he dreaded walking back through that room. Invisibility comforts him and to have someone break through and almost yell at him was too much. His insides clench at the thought of being scrutinized. Every day he tries to be a good person, to avoid inconveniencing anyone, to accrue good karma or something. He likes to think that it brings him good things. Just the other day he had a strange impulse to put a pen in his pocket and ended up using it to write down the phone number of a girl he met on the bus. He gets little strange ideas like that and when he ignores them, he gets screwed by the day somehow. If he hadn't brought the pen, he wouldn't have a date tomorrow night. He's thinking too much again.
He looks around at the bathroom, wondering how long he would mind staying in the tiny black-tiled room. Then a large man bursts open the door to his sanctuary and breathing heavily, lumbers past him to a stall and slams the door. Time to leave.
Luckily the crowd is noisily filing back in and retaking their seats. His new friend the banshee has her face pressed into her puzzle again. He walks around the farthest side of the room and focuses on his destination to avoid drawing her attention. He succeeds and finds a waitress to ask for his bill. He will escape undetected.
Standing in front of the cash register he cranes his neck to find the cashier. She eventually scuffles out from the kitchen, shoulders slumped and face drawn. At an inaudible comment from a cook she laughs and looks over to smile broadly through the window into the kitchen. When she looks back to the cash register her face is washed of emotion again. She smiles at him, and he hates that he sees the difference in the smile. She takes the money from him, pushes some buttons and hands him the change, thanking him for coming. He steps back and hears a yowl of pain from behind him. Turning around he finds that thing from the corner rolling her eyes at his clumsiness and inconsideration. Inconsideration! Him!
"I'm sorry, I didn't see you!"
"You don't see much, do you?"
His jaw drops at her accusation. She steps around him to get to the cash register and pays her bill. Then she walks out the door. He follows of course, not wanting to follow, but she either ignores him or doesn't notice. She's wearing a massive coat and he's happy to think that she must be fat underneath. She whirls around to catch his eyes returning back to her face level.
"I thought so."
"What?"
Oh god, now she thinks I was checking her out or something.
"Hey, what's your problem?"
She unlocks the door to her car and he stands by the trunk.
"Well? What the hell is your problem? Do you always treat strangers like this or was I a special punching bag for a bad night... or is it a bad life?"
She locks eyes with him once more and his knees go a little weak.
"There is nothing wrong with my life."
"Then why are you such a bitch?"
"HA. Do you automatically assume that you know people from looking at them? Why do you care if I'm a bitch? what do you care what I think or say?"
"Are you seriously naive enough to believe that your actions don't affect others' lives?"
"It's your choice to care."
With that she slams her car door and starts the engine. He jumps away from the car as she backs out of the parking space and squeals forward back to whatever slum she came from.
Naturally, he spends the next month ruminating on this conversation and creates different endings to the story each time. None of which satisfy him in the way that punching her in the face would have. So instead, he runs into walls.
User Reviews
Submitted by polymorph505 (user info) at 2005-02-15 16:50:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
*speechless*
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2005-01-12 11:20:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
First of all may I say that this post is fucking quality.
I have almost no criticism except for :
"Well? What the hell is your problem? Do you always treat strangers like this or was I a special punching bag for a bad night... or is it a bad life?"
That line doesn't sound right, bit too bitchy from a man calling someone out for their bitchiness.
I like the almost zero description of the woman.
Submitted by Seralena (user info) at 2004-11-17 20:37:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You know what? I think you need another one. I don't know the song lyric you're referring to, but it seemed to go over well.
This is for the title of the picture, which I didn't notice until I saw it pointed out. Just one more great thing about this post.
Submitted by drfeggphd (user info) at 2004-11-17 20:30:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2004-11-17 20:27:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
This was good...and I don't normally go for this kind of shit.
Submitted by screamfeeder (user info) at 2004-11-17 20:11:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ouch.jpg
Nice touch. Unless you didnt name it.
Then it is just a lucky nice touch.
Either way, great read.
I have seen this guy in a few diners in my day.
That lady as well.
Submitted by spedmonkey (user info) at 2004-11-16 19:06:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for Modest Mouse.
Submitted by Badlands (user info) at 2004-11-16 08:42:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent.
Submitted by Durae (user info) at 2004-11-16 02:53:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Oh yeah! The title. It sounded like you were saying there were multiple references though and I didn't consciously put any in. But considering how blue collar their music is, and how much this post is also there might be something else going on.
I'm glad you recognized the lyric.
Submitted by checkyourmail (user info) at 2004-11-16 02:44:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Uh, Modest Mouse?
Submitted by Spuds002 (user info) at 2004-11-16 02:34:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was a post that to me seemed to be about nothing. Nothing important happend it seems. Then why did i like it so much? What does this mean? How can somthing about nothing hold my attention so well? It was brillent in a simple way. Or maybe I missed the point, but still enjoyed it.
Submitted by Istaros (user info) at 2004-11-16 02:05:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
once i finally finished it, i liked it
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2004-11-16 00:37:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Really. I totally got caught up in the character of... your main character (holy redundancy batman). You write with such vivid detail.
I envy you.
Submitted by Durae (user info) at 2004-11-16 00:30:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Seralena, I'm sorry my title was a little misleading, and I'm glad you liked this.
sparkle, really? no way.
SilvrWolf, thanks for the awesome compliment.
checkyourmail, what did I reference? Could you fill me in?
Submitted by checkyourmail (user info) at 2004-11-16 00:10:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I think I caught every reference. Well done.
Submitted by SilvrWolf (user info) at 2004-11-15 23:29:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this very much. Everything seems to flow together nicely. You have a knack for a natural tempo in your writings.
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2004-11-15 23:01:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was beautiful.
Submitted by Seralena (user info) at 2004-11-15 22:57:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought it was going to be either humor or really biting sarcasm by the title, and I was all prepared to be bitchy and piss people off.
Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by a very good story.
Be proud!
Submitted by Durae (user info) at 2004-11-15 22:51:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
And you lie, John Galt.
I can't believe anyone is reading this, thank you Seralena and Steph.
Submitted by JohnGalt (user info) at 2004-11-15 22:50:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You rock, Durae.
Submitted by steph (user info) at 2004-11-15 22:32:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Loved this.
Submitted by Seralena (user info) at 2004-11-15 22:23:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was really good.
Submitted by lojope (user info) at 2004-11-15 22:07:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Yeah, I'll hear about it, I'm sure. Same thing happens with Chris' posts.
NOTE TO EVERYONE: I read this before she posted it.
Submitted by Durae (user info) at 2004-11-15 22:05:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
You do realize it looks like you didn't even read it. :)
Submitted by lojope (user info) at 2004-11-15 22:04:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Your finest work.