Priam owns a book cafè and his customers aren't really the usual ones you'd expect. Sometimes there's bloodshed, sometimes there's a rift in space and time, sometimes he can't understand the orders spoken in ancient tongue.
But he always, always se...
humor, supernatural, paranormal, sci-fi, slice of life
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"Welcome to The Pit, where we serve whoever, whenever, and whatever."
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PRIAM WAS JUST taking his first customer's order for the day when said customer's brain exploded. There were bits and gore splattered all over the counter, a few teeth clinking on the glass of displayed desserts, a tongue splattered on the wall beside the wall-plastered chalkboard menu, and two eyeballs rolling on the floor stopping at Priam's feet.
He hasn't even sold anything and now the cafè was in a mess again. Thankfully, the books were on the other side of the cafè so none of the, uh, remains reached it.
Priam remained smiling. A boy was revealed when the headless body tipped and toppled on the floor and Priam noted that the boy held a gun in his hands. He was wearing a crimson school uniform of the sort-one that Priam didn't recognize. It must've been from the newly built, city-mandated school he's heard of on the radio.
"They still haven't paid for their order, you know," Priam said, his smile concealing the surfacing migraine at the back of his head.
"Fucker deserved it," the boy said, kicking the body. "He poisoned my dinner. My insides melted overnight."
Priam pointedly does not stare at the boy's unmelted stomach. "That's none of my business. Anyway, seeing that they're," he nods towards the bleeding yet quickly regenerating customer, "not in the condition to pay, are you willing to pay for his order then?"
A scoff. "What did Fucker buy?"
Priam squinted at the blood-stained monitor. "Two egg sandwiches and iced coffee."
"Make it four and add a chocolate-chip smoothie."
Priam punched in the order, accepted the payment, and went to the kitchen to make the order. He paid no mind to the bloody mess surrounding the counter. That will disappear later, he thought.
When he came back with the order, the blood and remains had all crumbled to dust, and the first customer-Fucker, the boy had called him-now had a newly healed head and was in a shouting match with the boy. Priam served them food, and they both thanked him before proceeding to sit down at the table nearest to the counter. They continued their shouting match there.
Priam fetched the vacuum cleaner and proceed to clean the blood and bits that had turned to ashes.
"Sorry 'bout the mess this early in the morning," the man called Fucker apologized, looking sheepish.
Priam nodded. "Be sure to do it away from the counter and books next time, please. Preferably outside."
"Noted!" the boy said grinning, and Priam decided to ignore him. He was still upset about the mess the boy had made. At least it all turned to ashes; unlike the first time, one of his customers was brutally stabbed with the cafè-owned utensils. Cleaning the ichor stain off the wooden table and floor took almost four hours.
Priam does not want to clean any mess made by his customers unless it's caused by the food he served.
The chimes echoed and a woman with corn snake dreadlocks sauntered to the counter. Priam had already stashed off the vacuum cleaner and was wiping off the remaining ashes. He faced the woman and stretched his mouth to a forced, customer service smile. "Hello, welcome to The Pit. What do you want?"
"Hi, can I get uuuuuhhhh..." The woman trailed, eyes glued on the menu overhead. Many of the corn snake dreadlocks watched Priam, flicking their tongues as if assessing him. He maintained his smile, unfazed as some of the snakes were already in front of his face, flicking their curious little tongues.
He tried humoring himself since the woman was still occupied oogling at the menu. He stuck a little bit of his tongue out, hoping that it would entertain the snakes.
The snakes retreated beside the woman's head in a snap as if Priam had just spit on them. They looked offended.
Priam was also offended.
How rude.
"Oh!" the woman seemed to have finally concluded. Priam readied himself to type out her orders. "I'll have an Iced Skinny Hazelnut Macchiato, with sugar-free syrup, with an extra shot, light ice, and no whip. Also one Blueberry Pancake with whipped cream on top."
Priam blinked at her. He immediately caught himself, typed out the order, accepted the payment, gave her change, told her to wait for him to serve her order, and immediately marched towards the kitchen.
Dear Gehenna, his mind was screaming. She ordered a fucking complicated ass drink.
He opened the fridge, cracked open a large can of Hell, and drank all of it in one go. He needed this. Screw the caffeine content and warnings of moderate consumption.
Then he proceeded to make the order. He was in the middle of making the pancake when he heard a gunshot from outside. It was followed by the boy's angry yelling, then there were sounds of glass breaking.
This story has vague, little-to-no plot because this is from Priam's point of view, whose motto in life is to mind his own damn business. But you'll see the hilarious, spooky, nerve-wracking, spine-tingling occurrences inside his book cafè, so I think that's also an absolute win.
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