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Post by phobia on Oct 10, 2007 16:25:27 GMT -5
Webby first grabs the drinks delivers them. Despite his obviously irritation, he still does his job with some care. He glances at Joshua Peck, grabs the empty glass and pours him another.
Webby heads off behind the partition wall saying: "OK guys, the food will be up in a few minutes... Enjoy the TV for a bit."
Webby returns several moments later carrying a full pie pan. He sets it on the counter and asks Joshua Peck "Can I get you anything else?"
Without really waiting for an answer he begins removes the wrap from the pan and begins slicing the pie. As he looks to toss the wrapping into the garbage, seeing it's full. He stops with the pie and pulls the bag from the can, stuffs the wrapping into the bag and heads to the back door.
A windy gust comes in as he goes out; along with it comes fresh snowflakes and a small grey and black striped cat. It runs from the open door to the underside of the counter.
A few seconds later Webby returns, and must see the mongrel since he says "Aw, S**t. Come'ere you little bastard..." The cat replies with a leap across the counter spilling Joshua's full glass into into his lap. His previous irritation elevated into plain anger: "Get OUT!" He grabs a broom and chases after the beast.
It comes to rest, on the counter for just a moment. Then it darts across the diner onto Carter's table. Standing in front of Carter, it sits and stares at him.
The cat has matted fur and is wet from the snow.
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Post by terramax on Oct 10, 2007 18:17:09 GMT -5
Carefully and cautiously, Carter slowly reaches for the the cat as if to pet it of course with the intention to help catch the cat. There have been plenty of days that Carter had wished that somebody would have taken the time to simply stop and help, to give him a break. After spending 4 years in college earning a bachelors degree only to end up as a gas station attendant, Carter had grown accustomed to being the invisible guy that had to take everybody's crap and also be thought of as another of society's failures. One could only assume Webby was having "one of those days", after all he was having to work on Christmas Eve.
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Post by phobia on Oct 11, 2007 9:53:18 GMT -5
The cat, despite its hectic entry into the diner does not object to Carter picking it up. The cat simply watches him as he looks at it.
Its fur is matted and wet with snow.
The cat's odor invades Carters senses, nearly overwhelming them. His nose screams out as his eyes burn.
It does not blink, purr, hiss or even breathe. Beneath its wet fur the cat feels wrong. Cold and thin.
It has no heartbeat.
Webby has arrived at the table. Dropping the broom he grabs the little monster at the back of its neck, walks to the front door, and tosses it into the blizzard.
Carter sits quietly and examines his hand. Some of the wet hair from the cat is stuck to his hand. As he brushes it to the floor he realizes he is bleeding. The cat gave him a good scratch.
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Post by terramax on Oct 11, 2007 10:15:54 GMT -5
The "zombie" cat was extremely disturbing. Even more disturbing was the simple way Webby handled the cat. He wasn't at all surprised by it. Did he know this cat? Then again maybe it was just in Carter's head. Yeah, that's it. The cat was cold. Its breath was too shallow to feel easily and its heart beat must have slowed down. It was just freezing. Still Carter couldn't shake the feeling. The cut was a more imminent threat. He made his way to the restrooms and began cleaning his wound. With the door open, he gave a shout to Webby, "Do you have any bandages I can use to wrap this? Maybe an antibiotic? Neosporing? Anything?"
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Post by phobia on Oct 11, 2007 10:18:57 GMT -5
"No." is Webby's only reply. He's already back behind the counter preparing food.
"It was just a cat, how bad could it be?"
Carter looks at his wound again. Barely any blood, it doesn't even hurt. It's just a small scratch.
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Post by terramax on Oct 11, 2007 10:58:46 GMT -5
'Maybe I over-reacted a little in the heat of the moment,' Carter thought to himself, 'but I still want to stem any infection.' Carter exits the bathroom and grabs a napkin from the counter to hold over the scratch to clean up the rest of the blood and holds it there to stop the rest of the bleeding. He responds to Webby, "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just want to avoid infection is all. I guess some good soap and clean water will have to do though, huh." After a moments hesitation, Carter tries to strike up a little conversion in the quiet diner, "So does that cat frequent your diner?"
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Post by Grimsolace on Oct 11, 2007 12:23:40 GMT -5
Muttering a few curses about getting beer spilled all over his rumpled jacket, shirt and jeans, Peck grabbed a couple of napkins to wipe off his wet clothing. He had reacted fast enough to keep his journal from getting drenched, but it was obvious that he would have to return home soon enough. As much as he liked the stuff, smelling like sour beer for the rest of the night just wasn't what he had in mind.
Maybe he would get more work done at home anyway.
Damn cats.
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Post by psiphase on Oct 11, 2007 12:32:09 GMT -5
Ira just sat at his table sketching and laughing at the events that just transpired. 'These people think they have problems?' he thought to himself. 'Cats, scratches, and spilled beer. They don't know the meaning of problems.' He looked at his drawing with a disgusted look, wadded it up and began another.
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Post by phobia on Oct 12, 2007 10:16:04 GMT -5
Moments after the cat was ejected, a man came in to the diner, through the front door.
He is best now described as an old man. Past events have obviously taken their toll on him; his hair is gray and he just seems tired. He is roughly 5’10”, weights 140 pounds, and is seen in conservative late 70’s style jacket and tie. He carries a soft brown satchel which weighs heavily on his shoulder. He clutches it tightly as he sits in an unoccupied booth.
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Post by phobia on Oct 12, 2007 10:17:24 GMT -5
"Yeah, I've seen that pest around here before. Never ran inside though." Webby says as returns to cooking.
Also, he has delivered Ira a towel. "You want anything now, or not?" He asks.
Webby and the new customer have a quick exchange.
The new customer who is uninterested in discussion, orders "the special, and a coke."
A news reporter interrupts the Christmas TV cartoon with a weather report. Severe snow, be careful while driving, it's the same thing they report in New England every year around this time.
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Post by Grimsolace on Oct 12, 2007 10:34:47 GMT -5
Having wiped away as much of the beer from his clothes as he could Peck balled up the used napkins and threw them away. Picking up his satchel and placing his journal safely with-in, the writer started towards the exit grabbing his long coat from the stand next to the door
"Hey Webby, Ira! Happy Christmas you two!" Peck called out while putting on his coat, "I should make my way home before it gets any worse out there or I get anything else spilled on me in here." The writer smiled ruefully to himself - he obviously considered it his own fault, not his hosts, that had him smelling like Sam Adams.
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Post by psiphase on Oct 12, 2007 11:03:13 GMT -5
"Ya know, Webby. I believe I will have something. How about a patty melt, hold the mushrooms, an order of fries, and a coke, if you would be so kind." Ira smiled at Webby. He looked back at his drawing with a sense of accomplishment.
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Post by phobia on Oct 12, 2007 11:25:21 GMT -5
Peck, is still inside, wrapping himself tightly in his coat to protect himself from the onslaught of snow. Webby says, "There's still the matter of your check, sir!" He quickly throws it onto the counter.
Webby starts the melt and sinks more fries into the frier.
Then, he pulls a few orders together. The pie, and what you can only assume is the special, plus a round of drinks for all.
Webby gets the "special" meatloaf platter to the old man's table, last. Upon arrival he is expected to deliver the dish, but that does not happen as he intends. If you could see his face you would note his complete surprise and shock, but you cannot as he faces away from you toward the front window. Instead what catches your attention is the meatloaf plate boucning off the corner of the table and shattering on the floor, loose from his grip.
Beyond, through the large window, Peck, first, then the rest of you see what has caught his attention.
Slow, steady, stumbling best describes the movement of the woman. She wears no coat, only a white dress with small blue flowers. Her dress is dirty. She is covered with snow. As she approaches the street the snow storm becomes more as a blizzard and greatly reduces visibility. But still she is there, walking to the diner.
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Post by terramax on Oct 12, 2007 12:01:13 GMT -5
"Holly crap!" Carter says as he begins to move for the door. "First a dying cat and now a half frozen woman." Carter opens the door and takes off his coat running toward the woman. He can just barely see the diner and the woman, but he can't let her freeze to death this close to a safe place. However, as he approaches, he begins to recall that eary feeling he got from the cat. 'Something isn't right here,' Carter thought to himself. He couldn't let her die because of a sour stomach, but something was keeping him from putting himself all the way out there as he originally intended. Instead Carter slipped back into his coat He stopped in his tracks to make sure he could still find his way back to the diner. "Ma'am," Carter yelled at the top of his lungs. He barely even hear himself over the blizzard. "Ma'am can you hear me? Come this way? There's a diner over here. Ma'am?" He continued to yell into the cold watching the woman get closer. With each passing step, that eary feeling grew more intense.
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Post by phobia on Oct 12, 2007 12:10:48 GMT -5
Out of the corner of his eye as Carter approaches the street he sees a large later 1970's model Monte Carlo skidding around a bend in the deep snow.
The driver, concealed by snow and a foggy windshield regains control, but only for a moment. His path takes him across the center lane, directly over the woman (CRACK!) and down the street. He skids, regains control and accelerates away.
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