Article: 178619 of talk.bizarre
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
From: elvis@netcom.com (kEvin)
Subject: FTSD: An Ending
Message-ID: <elvisD06BKD.7EG@netcom.com>
Followup-To: don't.even.think.about.it
Summary: again?
Keywords: bottle cab lying bitch
Organization: Pro Procrastinators
Date: Fri, 2 Dec 1994 08:00:11 GMT
Lines: 110
Status: O


  ...and then they led me to a table in a dimly-lit corner. It
disgusted me. Jeez, who do they think they're trying to fool
with red-checkered tablecloths? Fucking marketing droids probably
behind this setup. 

Before I managed to get comfortable, "Andre" had sidled up and
introduced himself in this phony French accent. God what a loser.
When he asked me if I'd like to order, I just glowered at him
till he scuttled off. At least he moved quickly once you got him
to stop yammering. I wonder if he knew this was an imitation of an
Italian place?

I barely had time to get the chair positioned just right and
square with the table before he hove into view carrying a 
bottle and glass on a tray. I bet he stayed up late practicing
so he could balance the thing on one hand like that.

"Here you are m'sur, this should prepare you quite nicely," he
said, plopping the glass in front of me and setting the bottle
off to the side. "Signal when you are ready, and I'll bring your
next selection promptly."

I picked up the bottle in my right hand, comforted by the way
my hand nearly enclosed it. Most of it was covered by a basket
snugly set around it, but you could see some of the thick,
viscous contents through the green glass of the neck. It was
almost round and much heavier than I expected.

"Hey! 'Garcon' I want both bottles on the table now. Got it?"

Andre didn't like that. "Oh no m'sur, you want your second bottle
to be chilled to precisely the right temperature. If I bring
it now, you won't be satisfied with the results when you drink it."

It occurred to me that if I smashed him in the face while holding
the bottle, I'd break his jaw. It was such an entertaining realization
that I smiled despite the circumstances. Andre must have read my
mind, because he shot off around the corner when he saw my smile.

I ended up just sitting there, toying with the bottle, enjoying
its heft for a good 10 minutes before loser trotted back with
its mate on a tray.

"Ah m'sur, I've spoken with the owners, and they have assured me
that based on past experience they are confident you will be 
satisfied with this form of service."

"Right, past experience. like I've ever been in this joint before,"
I muttered to myself while facing him. "right."

"Ah Ah AH! m'sur, perhaps you were here before and DON'T remember
it!" Andre chortled.

Whatever good feelings I might have had for that bastard disappeared
behind the smug little smile he put up for his little joke. Pathetic.
I bet he said the same thing to every customer. I hated Andre like
I've hated no other person before. Don't get me wrong, I've had
stronger feelings, just never got pity and hate bundled together
before.

Thankfully, he left me alone to drink.

I pulled her pictures from my wallet and spread them in front of
me while sipping forcefully at my drink. I forced myself to remember
everything. How we met sharing a cab. How we fucked like weasels.
The jokes about her mother. My hand up her dress at that funeral.
Her lips pressed against mine. Her fucking knife in my goddamn
back. My eyes teared, but I didn't give a damn. Fuck her, she
knew I loved her.

Then I noticed her in the other corner. I nearly lost it. Why did
that bitch come here tonight? Was she trying to get some kind of
sympathy from me, like with that phony suicide attempt? I wanted
to walk over there and fucking punch her lights out, but I wasn't
sure I could walk straight.

Blinking away tears, I got a better look. She had two empty bottles
in front of her, and her eyes were closed. In the innocence of
sleep, I couldn't hate her. I stared at her hungrily for some time,
but I knew it was better to forget her and go on.

I was ready.

I chugged the second bottle.

***

"M'sur, M'sur! you need to wake up now. You'll miss your train."

Groggily, I opened my eyes. Some waiter type was shaking me and
talking about a train. It looked like I was in some kind of
restaurant, nice place. Why had I gone into a strange place to
have my blackouts when I could have them just as easily at Joe's?
Why had I been drinking so much lately anyway? Christ, that's no way
to live.

Luckily, Andre (the waiter type) had woken me in time to catch
the last train. I'd need to hurry though.

After I hailed a cab, this truly gorgeous woman tried to steal it.
She wasn't just being rude, or so she said. Apparently, she had a
train to catch. I smiled. I could tell she was as attracted to me as
I was to her.

"Why don't we share?"


kEvin
karma?