Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Tea Time of the Dead "Morning Coffee" excerpt


Tea Time of the Dead
Morning Coffee

W
e woke up this morning with a load of customers. There were way more folks than just the regulars, and some of them looked like they’d come from far away. At the Tea Time diner, we always had more than enough clients to keep the business going, usually the same ones. This was the best place for zombies to get their bloodshakes and grilled brain sandwiches. Today, the place was so crowded I barely had time to serve one that a whole new gang was on their way in. Something was up… After pouring a hot cup of joe for a cute teen couple with their arms sewn together, I went to check on Bob in the kitchen. He was cooking for thirty and all over the place. We’d been together and running this place for a long time. We were supposed to use the money to get married, but never really got around to it. I caught Bob stealing some raw bacon and slapped his hand. It fell off, landing in pancake batter.

“What’s with all the people?” I asked, frustrated, as he casually adjusted his hand back on.

“I need new stitches Ameela,” he said. Bob was a zombie. I was usually the only living creature in this place.

“There’s a big crowd out there,” I said again.

He handed me a large platter of scramble gray matter and lower intestines.

“They’re all asking for coffee,” he stated, handing me a pot of black liquid. Our coffee was pitch black. Hmm…I figured something was definitely up. A shortage, maybe? I went to serve the platter to a large bald man with a grey goatee and a leather jacket. He was reading the paper. The headline stated “Coffee Shortage”. I knew it.

“So, they’re all out of java?” I asked, filling his mug.

“Yup,” he grunted, downing his drink in one gulp. I began filling it up again as he wolfed down his platter. “No more coffee in the whole city,” he said between bites, “This is the only place that sells it.”

“Well that’s a bummer,” I said, staring at the tables around me. All of them were filled, and still more people were coming in, crowding up the counters. A line was beginning to form at the entrance. This was ridiculous, but it sure was good business for us.

“Yeah, sure is! Not a single diner in town has anymore. You can’t even get it in stores.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged his sagging shoulders and ate the last of his plate. Suddenly, the door swung open violently. A gang of five humans barged into the place and pushed their way through to the counter. Bob peeked his head out of the kitchen window.

“We want coffee,” one of them demanded. His leather jacket had studs on the shoulders and his white t-shirt was stained with tire grease. I resisted the urge to bleach it. He seemed slightly taller than the others and had a missing tooth on the left side of his mouth.

“You’re going to have to wait your turn,” I stated bluntly.

He snarled and tried to grab the pot from my hand. I grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back and slowly started pouring coffee onto his James Dean cut. Bob continued flipping pancakes in the back, he knew I had it covered.

“Wait your turn, or get out,” I told him.


He and his pals ran out of the shop. Something told me they’d be back pretty soon. Sure enough, I was right…

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