This post? I'm procrastinating.
I'm supposed to be writing some of the 50,000 words to "win" at NaNoWriMo. Earlier instead of writing, I read articles about writing. Before that I took a nap. Before that I actually did do some writing.
In fact, I've been writing a little bit at a time throughout the day. Here's a sample:
Al, a long time regular, stared up from his seat in the diner booth at the new waitress. She was tall with an angular face and high, round breasts. She stared down at him. When he smiled he revealed a row of yellowing, cracked teeth. “So,” he squinted at the name tag she wore. “Vicci. How’s tricks tonight?”
“Tricks? I know not what you mean.”
“I mean, how are you tonight?” The new girl wasn’t from here. She talked funny and had a very slight accent. Al didn’t have a clue where she’d come from but it sure wasn’t anywhere near Massachusetts.
“Ah. I am well if a bit tired. Please, now may I take your order and that of your friend?” Vicci waved a regal hand toward the other peasant sitting in his torn up diner bench, Joe. “This is an establishment of eating.”
Another waitress, Margie, appeared beside Vicci. “Honey. I’ll need to see you in the back. Now.” She turned to the perplexed men. “Usual boys?” She noted them nodding in unison as she headed to the back room past the kitchen. She tossed a wrinkled and worn meal slip into the receptacle at the grill.
“You wanna tell me what that was out there?” Margie flipped on the overhead fan for the fry-a-lator and lit a smoke. She took a deep haul and blew the smoke over her the fryer. “Those boys is regulars and they like things the way they like ‘em. Do you understand?” Ash fell into the oil and disappeared on her third haul.
“I do not.” Vicci stared. “I apologize for miss stepping, but I am unfamiliar with Diner Life.”
“Look Honey, to be successful in this line of work, you need to relax a little. Loosen up. Customers like a friendly waitress who – I don’t wanna hurt your feelings or nothin – but they want a waitress who is, well, nice.” Margie inhaled from her Checkers Regular then flicked the ash into the hot oil. “You aren’t a mean girl. You’re just impersonal. Like this robuht on a sci-fi show one of my kids used to watch.”
“I think I understand.” Vicci said the words slowly. She was completely unsure of what this
meant except that she was doing something wrong. The diner was the perfect place to work: they were open all night, she met interesting people (some of whom confounded her), and was able to leave early enough to get home on time. Plus, she made a little American money. “I do not want to lose my job.”
Margie shook her head. “I’m not firin ya. I ain’t the boss, so I couldn’t if I wanted to. Besides, you’re weird and stiff, but I like you anyways. You’re a nice enough girl. As much as I can tell anyhow. And, you bring in new business. Don’t take this the wrong way, although I’m sure you will, but a nice ass and firm tits ain’t been seen in here since I was a girl. Men walking by see you in the window and they need to come in and get themselves a piece.” Margie drew on her smoke again. She dipped the tip into the oil and tossed the spent butt into a bucket on the floor. She smiled at Vicci’s wide eyes. “Piece of pie. They know they aren’t getting a piece of you, but they’ll eat pie and dream about it.”
Vicci rang her hands together. Although, she was unaccustomed to being nervous, she was finding that she was excellent at it. She had no idea how to interact with Commoners. At home, she never spoke to them. They washed her clothes, cleaned her room, and fetched her meals. Here, she was the servant and they were the masters. “I believe I can do this.”
“First things first Honey. You need to learn to talk better. Well, worse really. I’ve never heard no one speak better than you. That’ll lose you tips.” Margie led her young coworker to the edge of the door and pointed into the dining area. “These are common folk. They don’t talk fancy and they don’t talk stiff. If you can get friendly with ‘em, they’ll do almost anythin for you. If you cross ‘em. Well, let’s just say that’s a bad idea.”
Vicci stepped back out of view of the dining room. “Vigilantes?” She hissed the word in a panicked whisper.
So, this is what I'm working on. I'm not asking for suggestions. At the moment, I am not asking for anything. I'm just pretending to work on something while I'm really avoiding the real task at hand.
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