The sound of employees shuffling around the restaurant was beginning to annoy me. I could feel my patience wearing thin, as if it were the strands of string cheese being slowly pulled away, bit by bit.

“The menu, sir.”

I glared up at the waiter to match their voice with a face. A face that happened to have freakishly blue eyes and an amazingly bold jawline.

“Thank you…” I searched for their name tag. “Wyatt.”

“Of course,” they replied.

I settled back in my seat to get comfortable as I began to scan the menu.

Scallops

Crap leg

Shrimp (blackened, grilled, or fried)

Fish ‘n chips (catfish or cod)

Soup of the day (ask server)

“Hello and welcome to the Crab ‘n Cod, sir.”

I almost fell out of my seat when I heard the piercing, high pitched voice address me out of nowhere.

“Did I startle you? I’m terribly sorry.”

I held up my hand. “No, no it’s ok. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Alright then. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

“Sure. I’ll have a Ginger Ale, please.”

She started violently scribbling in her notepad. “Gin…ger a..le. Ok, got it!”

“G—good. What might the soup of the day be?”

“That would be clam chowder, sir.”

“Alright… would it by any chance be possible to get something off-menu?”

“I suppose.”

I took a deep breath. “Ok, I’d like a crab bisque with blackened crap, as well as fried crab. But with the fried crab, can the crust be pulled off, crushed, and sprinkled in the soup, as well as the bare crab, except for those don’t crush them, just put them in the soup as is?”

“…lled off…crushed…and sprinkled in the…soup…” she looked up at me with a hint of concern in her eyes, but when we made eye contact, she went right back to scribbling.

“Anything else, sir?” she said, frantically waving her hand in the air as if she had gotten a cramp.

“Yeah, I’d also like a side of oyster crac—“ I frustratedly rubbed my eye, knowing something had just flown into it. “Sorry, I meant to say a side of oyster crackers, please.”

I winked with my right eye to try and rid it of whatever had flown in before I had another fit.

“A—are you sure?”

I looked up to see the waitress still standing next my table, her eyes bugging out of her head.

“Yes, I’m… sure. Is something wrong, miss?”

She winked. “No, nothing at all.”

I cocked my head as she walked away. Was she mocking me?

WIP