Posts tagged fiction

I stand behind the counter and tie a red apron around my waist. I step out to clean the tables. I set the tables: condiments, menus, napkins, silverware. And then I wait for the dinner rush to begin.

            This is what I do every night. Everything in the same order—alphabetical: apron, clean, condiments, menus, napkins, wait. When people start to come in, my alphabetical list of tasks changes: greet, seat, serve. When everyone leaves, it changes yet again: clear, mop, wash, wipe.

            I wanted to put the menus in alphabetical order too, but my boss said it would confuse people. So I just make sure that they rhyme. Everything has to have some sort of order.

            My routine makes most people think that I am a waitress. But that’s where they’re wrong. You see, I am an actress of sorts. I am very good at making people think that I am a waitress.

I work in this diner because it is where I meet my rings. I collect rings—wedding rings. But the only way to obtain a wedding ring is to either get married or to take it from someone else. No one will ever marry me. I have a crippling facial deformity—my left mandible is three centimeters longer than my right one. It throws my entire face off-kilter.

So I have to take my rings.

Tonight I met a silver ring. He was sitting alone at table seven. The men that sat alone were the easiest. They would come into my van of their own accord. Rohypnol was hardly ever necessary for the ones that sat alone. They always think I’m just a lonely waitress. He was no different.

It was not until after he was strapped to the floor with my scalpel pressed to his neck that he realized I am not really a waitress.

After I got my ring, I slipped it into the pocket of my apron. It was so pretty—still on the finger bone.

When I got home, I disposed of the bone and placed the ring in the box where I keep my rings. I now officially had more rings than Saturn. That is, depending on how you count the rings. I count the ones you can see with a telescope—eight rings. Maybe someday I will have as many rings as you can see with a satellite. Maybe someday I will have all thirty rings.