OK. It's almost over. Soon, I can go home...ah, home. I love my home. There's no people there. No food either, but I'm thinking that's a good thing. Maybe I should see if there's any more small cleanup type stuff I can do. Nah. There's a bunch done. Deb and Nina will be here any minute, and then I can go.

Oh, look. It's Betty and Lisa. Betty's a sweetheart, but Lisa is Hell. The weird part that I am just now realizing as I am somehow spontaneously burting into narrative, (yes yes, right now, dammit, it's kinda like a musical, except instead of dancing, I feel an uncontrollable urge to get all epiphanal and generally down wit my Writer self), is that I honestly don't think she means to be. Word on the street is that she has "problems." Things have to be a certain way, or she'll bitch. If everything is OK in her world, she's fine. OK. Enough Narrative. Back to the Dramatization.)

But you know what? I don't even care. They never want to order right away anyway. By the time they're ready to order, they will officially be Someone Else's Problem. Get the coffee and the ashtray and for the love of God don't forget Lisa's soda, and then just walk away. Only ten minutes. I can last another ten minutes.

Oh, great! It's Don! Don, who ALWAYS stays at least two hours! Don, who babbles at anyone who seems to be listening, or even who makes eye contact! Don, who NEVER EVER tips! (See, that time it's a lot more subtle. You barely even noticed me slipping you the Background Narrative that time, did you?) Well, maybe he won't want to order right away either. "OK, so just let me know when you're ready, OK, Don? You wanna maybe read the paper a little first? I'll get it for you." Whew.

WHY AREN'T THEY HERE YET? I know. I can make up some more puddings. Oh, look. There is no pudding. Well, I guess there's enough made up for now. Opening new cans is a lot more effort than I wanna expend with only five more minutes till I can go home.

Huzzah! It's Deb! "Betty and Lisa and Don all wanted to wait." Hee hee hee. Sucker! Now, Nina will be here any second, and I can go home.

Oh, look. It's another Four Hour Coffee Monkey. (I have never actually called them four hour coffee monkeys. I usually call them, "oh, you know, she'll sit there forever, and drink coffee, and smoke cigarettes and drink more coffee and maybe in an hour or so she'll want some pie, but she won't try to talk to you or anything like Don always does, so it's cool." I've just now decided that "Coffee Monkey" is a much more appealing term. It has a nice ring to it, and any time you find the opportunity to use the word "monkey" you should. It's such a fun word to say, and besides, everyone loves monkeys. I plan putting the term "Coffee Monkey" (TM) into immediate use, unless I happen to think of something even more clever in a minute or two.)

Jeez. Betty and Lisa and Don and this one whose name I do not know. Four Coffee Monkeys. There will be no smoking section available tonight. This is kinda funny. I'm so glad I'm going home.

OK. It's 4. I should be going home. Where the hell's Nina? Deb's talking to Don. I'd better get this new table set up for her. Oh, crap. Here's another one. Is this a problem yet? Maybe I should take a table. Lessee. Don's order is in, Betty and Lisa probably aren't ready, Coffee Monkey #4 is in the bathroom. So, Deb's basically got a three top and a single. She's fine. Where's Nina??

It's 10 after. I should not still be here! I should be away from here! I should be 10 minutes away from here! I'm a nutty bunny! Hee. OK. Giggling at random obscure quotes floating through my brain proves it. I should definitely go home now. "Hey, Nick? Nina's not here."

Why is she not here? What will happen if she doesn't come?? I mean, after I cry. Will I have to stay till close??

Whoa! Where did you come from? And why the hell are you sitting at a dirty table? There's a clean one RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!! Grumble grumble clear table, grumble mumble wipe table, "Deb will be with you as soon as--"

"I'm ready now. I'll have the beef stirfry." Aaah! Nooooooooo! Pretend you didn't hear him. Nina will be here any second, and then you can go. No, wait! What are you doing? Don't go into your pocket! Don't pull out the notepad! Run away! Run away!!! "Did you want soup or salad with that?" Damn waitress reflexes. Taking orders is in my blood. How depressing.

Oh, looky. Nina's here now. Sigh. Take out clean dishes. Take out that damn stirfry. Clear the register. Count up $43 of Mary's fucking change. More dishes. "Is there anything else you want me to do before I leave?" Heh. I really didn't do much at all. Maybe they'll see how dangerously close I am to cracking up entirely and let me go anyway. Oh, good.

***

Man. I hate that. I hate thinking I'll be done with work, and then finding out that I'm not. That work has been extended indefinitely. Maaaybe it will be five minutes. Maaaybe it's another FOUR HOURS!!!!

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I don't think "epiphinal" is a real word. But it should be.

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