Author: BiteMeTechie PM
The customer is always right, even when he's Maxie Zeus.Rated: Fiction K - English - Humor - Words: 492 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 7 - Published: 03-29-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7968636
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: On one of the tumblrs I run, Twinings and I offered ourselves up for one full week of filling fic prompts for our readers, varying in length from a hundred to a thousand-plus words. The project has been dubbed the Free For All Fic For All—or FFAFFA for short. This is one of those stories—and this is the boilerplate author's note you'll see on all of 'em.
Prompt: Maxie Zeus tries to have lunch at a diner.
"Your eyes are the same color of azure as those of my daughter, Athena!"
"I get that a lot." Shifting from one tired foot to the other, hip cocked to one side as she reached into her apron for her order pad and pen, Charlene rolled her eyes. Her first week in Gotham and this was easily one of the more normal pick-up lines she'd heard.
"Has your mother ever spoken of me? Has she had a dalliance with a god?" He peered at her, scrutinizing every detail of her face. "You could be my child, you know."
"Not today," the waitress said, giving the older gentleman a humoring smile that was half amusement, half hurry-up-I'm-off-in-ten-minutes."Now, what would you like for lunch?"
"Ah!" He clapped his large, meaty hands once. "To the point, then!"
"God, yes," she muttered under her breath.
"Which one?" he asked.
"God!" he exclaimed exasperatedly.
"God?" she asked, puzzled.
"Yes? Do you have an entreaty, my child?"
"No, I said—okay, you know what? Never mind, I'm not getting drawn into a comedy routine with—" a nutbar "—a customer. What do you want to eat?"
"I shall have roast boar caught by the hands of Artemis and no other, the finest goat cheese made by Amalthea with the bread baked by the hands of four vestal virgins from the temple of Demeter," he replied, not even bothering to look at the menu. "A glass of Ambrosia nectar to sate my thirst and cakes drowned with the honey from Melissa's own comb."
She had scribbled furiously just to keep up with what he was saying, but once he finished, she seemed to realize what he'd just said.
Charlene stared at him for a second.
"Well?" he asked. "Deliver my missive to Hestia that she might see to the hearth!"
"It'll…be up in a few minutes." She left the table, confused.
Crossing the tiny diner, she delivered the slip to the short order cook behind the counter. "I hope you can make sense of this."
The cook took one glance at the handwriting, shifted his eyes to the customer who was having an intense conversation with Poseidon in his water glass and then looked back at the bemused waitress with a smile.
"One ham and cheese sandwich on white bread, grape juice and an order of Baklava, comin' up."