2010-07-30 17:26![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewatchmaker
thewatchmakerThe food had been edible. That was the nicest thing I could say about it. It had also been bland, and the steak had been cooked too much. I would have complained but Waitress Barbie had vanished so long ago I forgot what she looked like other than blond hair in a ponytail.
But considering the company I was keeping, how the hell could I complain about the food. Sitting across from me, Scully didn’t look exactly thrilled with the behavior of the rest of our group. The constant inappropriate touching of the Petrelli brothers was apparently infectious, and now Bennet and Tony Stark were involved as well.
Seeing Bennet and Peter wrestling over the salt and pepper was enough to keep me from ever using either condiment again, and I am not about to talk about what Stark was doing with the other Peter.
“Did they have a lot to drink, Sylar?” Scully looked over at them then back at me. We were the only ones keeping our hands to ourselves. The serial killer and the Fed, the only two people at the table that weren’t making a spectacle, it was no wonder Barbie hadn’t been back since filling the last drink order.
“More than I did. I think this margarita had tequila flavoring instead of any real alcohol. I need to remember to drink it straight. If you get a mixed drink they fuck you over.” It had been so weak that I hadn’t felt even a momentary buzz. Sure my regen would have killed it off anyway, but I still wanted that buzz for a little while. The Peters didn’t seem to have that problem at all. It gave me one more reason to hate them. “At least Bennet is too involved with hide the sausage to keep glaring at me. That’s an improvement.”
“Nathan! What do you want to do next?” One of the Peters prattled. I rolled my eyes. That one didn’t look like he’d had an original thought in his life. The one sitting next to me, the one with the scar didn’t seem to need Nathan’s constant guidance. Even Peter Petrelli can grow up.
At some point Waitress Barbie traded places with Waitress Barbie 2.0. I couldn’t tell the difference.
It was getting late, and if I had to watch the same edition of Sports Center again, I’d have to forget my manners and kill someone, so I asked for the bill. Barbie looked at me blankly. Nathan asked her for a box for his leftovers. Never took Nathan for a doggy bag kind of guy. It was a night of surprises.
Sports Center came and went one more time before the bill arrived. Nathan’s box didn’t. Waitress Barbie put it all together on one tab, seven people, and one bill. I rolled my eyes, and we began trying to figure out who ordered what.
“I didn’t know there was a math test?” I joked with Scully as I jotted down my total.
When we were all done, Barbie returned to collect the cash and the credit cards.
Nathan’s box didn’t come with her. He asked for one. Again.
Barbie returned several minutes later. We were short. We were of course all certain we had paid enough, but still tossed in more money to cover it.
Barbie came again, taking the new money. Nathan’s box was not with her.
When she came back, instead of handing credit card slips to be signed, she informed us we were once again short on money. Somehow we were now even more behind than we were the first time. She said that she’d pay the $3. Somehow we’d gone from $7 short, added money, been $13 short, added money, and now we were $3 short.
Barbie pointed out that we had sales tax to divvy up as well and including her tip.
HER TIP! Bitch was going to be lucky if she didn’t get the tip of my finger exposing the fact that she didn’t have a brain in her head.
Oh and the bitch didn’t bring Nathan’s box this time either.
The monster inside of me wanted out. It wanted to tear her to shreds. I very coolly told her. “Rerun the tab. Separate bills this time. The way it was supposed to be to begin with.”
Barbie blinked. Barbie’s lip quivered. Barbie started to cry. “It’s a really busy night, and I’ve had a really hard day.”
Then Barbie ran away.
Guess what? It wasn’t to get Nathan his box.
We all stared after here. We were all tired. We were all pissed. Not even Peter wanted to comfort her, which was a surprise to me.
“This is all your fault, Sylar,” Peter said with a sneer. “If you hadn’t killed Charlie, we could have had a good waitress.”
“Yeah,” said the younger Peter.
“Fuck you both,” I snarled at them. I asked for the manager. I thought it was better than murder. Now I’m not too sure. I told him the same thing we told her, and he lumbered off.
Nathan still didn’t have a box for his leftovers.
Barbie came back. She said she was sorry. She said she’d pay the $3.
Scully was starting to look like she wanted her gun. She went out to her car and found more change. We added that to the total.
“That’s fine,” I said. “But while you’re running the tab, again. BRING NATHAN A FUCKING BOX!”
The box finally came. Barbie looked at us in fear as we left the restaurant. She had good reason.
Thank god that night was over.
******
This story was based on our real life post SDCC dinner. The names have been changed to protect our mundane identities. However our behaviors weren't all that different from what I've presented here.
But considering the company I was keeping, how the hell could I complain about the food. Sitting across from me, Scully didn’t look exactly thrilled with the behavior of the rest of our group. The constant inappropriate touching of the Petrelli brothers was apparently infectious, and now Bennet and Tony Stark were involved as well.
Seeing Bennet and Peter wrestling over the salt and pepper was enough to keep me from ever using either condiment again, and I am not about to talk about what Stark was doing with the other Peter.
“Did they have a lot to drink, Sylar?” Scully looked over at them then back at me. We were the only ones keeping our hands to ourselves. The serial killer and the Fed, the only two people at the table that weren’t making a spectacle, it was no wonder Barbie hadn’t been back since filling the last drink order.
“More than I did. I think this margarita had tequila flavoring instead of any real alcohol. I need to remember to drink it straight. If you get a mixed drink they fuck you over.” It had been so weak that I hadn’t felt even a momentary buzz. Sure my regen would have killed it off anyway, but I still wanted that buzz for a little while. The Peters didn’t seem to have that problem at all. It gave me one more reason to hate them. “At least Bennet is too involved with hide the sausage to keep glaring at me. That’s an improvement.”
“Nathan! What do you want to do next?” One of the Peters prattled. I rolled my eyes. That one didn’t look like he’d had an original thought in his life. The one sitting next to me, the one with the scar didn’t seem to need Nathan’s constant guidance. Even Peter Petrelli can grow up.
At some point Waitress Barbie traded places with Waitress Barbie 2.0. I couldn’t tell the difference.
It was getting late, and if I had to watch the same edition of Sports Center again, I’d have to forget my manners and kill someone, so I asked for the bill. Barbie looked at me blankly. Nathan asked her for a box for his leftovers. Never took Nathan for a doggy bag kind of guy. It was a night of surprises.
Sports Center came and went one more time before the bill arrived. Nathan’s box didn’t. Waitress Barbie put it all together on one tab, seven people, and one bill. I rolled my eyes, and we began trying to figure out who ordered what.
“I didn’t know there was a math test?” I joked with Scully as I jotted down my total.
When we were all done, Barbie returned to collect the cash and the credit cards.
Nathan’s box didn’t come with her. He asked for one. Again.
Barbie returned several minutes later. We were short. We were of course all certain we had paid enough, but still tossed in more money to cover it.
Barbie came again, taking the new money. Nathan’s box was not with her.
When she came back, instead of handing credit card slips to be signed, she informed us we were once again short on money. Somehow we were now even more behind than we were the first time. She said that she’d pay the $3. Somehow we’d gone from $7 short, added money, been $13 short, added money, and now we were $3 short.
Barbie pointed out that we had sales tax to divvy up as well and including her tip.
HER TIP! Bitch was going to be lucky if she didn’t get the tip of my finger exposing the fact that she didn’t have a brain in her head.
Oh and the bitch didn’t bring Nathan’s box this time either.
The monster inside of me wanted out. It wanted to tear her to shreds. I very coolly told her. “Rerun the tab. Separate bills this time. The way it was supposed to be to begin with.”
Barbie blinked. Barbie’s lip quivered. Barbie started to cry. “It’s a really busy night, and I’ve had a really hard day.”
Then Barbie ran away.
Guess what? It wasn’t to get Nathan his box.
We all stared after here. We were all tired. We were all pissed. Not even Peter wanted to comfort her, which was a surprise to me.
“This is all your fault, Sylar,” Peter said with a sneer. “If you hadn’t killed Charlie, we could have had a good waitress.”
“Yeah,” said the younger Peter.
“Fuck you both,” I snarled at them. I asked for the manager. I thought it was better than murder. Now I’m not too sure. I told him the same thing we told her, and he lumbered off.
Nathan still didn’t have a box for his leftovers.
Barbie came back. She said she was sorry. She said she’d pay the $3.
Scully was starting to look like she wanted her gun. She went out to her car and found more change. We added that to the total.
“That’s fine,” I said. “But while you’re running the tab, again. BRING NATHAN A FUCKING BOX!”
The box finally came. Barbie looked at us in fear as we left the restaurant. She had good reason.
Thank god that night was over.
******
This story was based on our real life post SDCC dinner. The names have been changed to protect our mundane identities. However our behaviors weren't all that different from what I've presented here.
