A Date Gone Awry
At work the next morning, I confronted Caitlyn about her actions the day before. She was very apologetic, but had received a call just before arriving at the cafe. It seems that the lab had been contacted by aliens, and she was needed at once. It was above my pay grade, so I wasn’t needed. I don’t know why Shelley was hanging around outside the lab today, but there she was.
I forgave Caitlyn for taking off on me, and we hugged it out.
The rest of the day at worked passed uneventfully, and I left feeling good about my job. When I arrived at home, Rashawn called me up (Sam’s name was Rashawn) and invited me out to the Shrieking Llama for drinks and games.
“Absolutely!” I said. It sounded like fun.
It wasn’t. At least, not to begin with. Ol’ Rashawn spent the first hour or so watching the soccer match. His team wasn’t doing well, from what I understand. There was a lot of yelling and cursing, and mother-llama-ing the referees. Eventually, whichever sports club he was cheering for lost their game, and the bar staff turned on the figure skating competition.
Rashawn wasn’t happy, and he left shortly thereafter. Jerk. Well, that was your last chance buddy. Don’t call me again.
And that’s when Myron spotted me. Or, at least that’s when I spotted Myron spotting me. He bought me a drink, and let me know that the guy I came in with was a jerk. Preaching to the choir, my friend, but thanks.
He challenged me to a game of foosball, to which I accepted. I needed to whack at things and blow off some steam.
The game was wicked. We were evenly matched, and the bar patrons started noticing.
Eventually he beat me with a score of 21-20. By the time we finished, the bar was closing up, and I was exhausted. I headed home to bed, alone still, but feeling good.
Say… that’s a *much* nicer bed than it was earlier. That thing must be worth more than all the money I have in the world currently! I bet I could sell it and buy a kitchen. Oh, but it’s so much more comfortable than it was. I’ll think about it.
Nobody opened a breakfast place in the time since yesterday afternoon, so I returned to the Pelican, where grumpy Mr Kim led me to this table out over the pool. I couldn’t decide what I wanted this early in the morning, so I settled for a cup of coffee and a bowl of clam chowder.
I know what you’re thinking. Clam chowder for breakfast? And if I was going to just have chowder, why didn’t I go back to the Chowder House? I’ll tell you why; Bacon. The Pelican’s clam chowder is full of bacon. Bacon, cream, potatoes, and clams. That’s practically breakfast food anyway.
But for some reason, one of the waitresses collected all the dirty dishes, and left them on my table, and on the floor beside me. No, seriously; a big pile of dirty dishes, stinking up my breakfast.
Luckily, her co-worker came running over and cleaned them up, apologizing for the other’s incompetence. I asked if the other waitress’ name was Meagan and laughed. The waitress asked me to leave.
We played for a few hours, until I received a phone call from Caitlyn, who invited me down to the gym for a workout.
Caitlyn met me at the gym, and we headed in.
The workout felt great. Caitlyn coached me through a few things, then went off to the punching bags. I stayed at the machine for a bit, until …
… something just didn’t feel right. I was pretty sure I was about to throw up. Something about that breakfast chowder wasn’t sitting right.
I called the restaurant right away, letting them know that the chowder might have gone off. They assured me that everything was fine, nobody else was sick, and they were refunding the cost of my meal and another $300 to keep quiet. I should drink plenty of water.
Great.
Well, that certainly wasn’t pleasant. I cleaned myself up, and felt quite a bit better after … letting it all out. I may just survive this.
Out in the hallway, I bumped into a nice man who introduced himself as Bob … something-or-other. We had a great chat about the gym, and its patrons. I bragged a bit about surviving food poisoning, and he seemed honestly impressed.
Oh, look who it is. Meagan.
Hello…. Meagan.
(bitch)
Hungry again – finally – I took a trip to a local bar where I ran into Nancy Landgraab, who introduced me to … Sam. Samuel? Samuel Something. Anyway, there wasn’t any food available here, so we both – Sam and I – headed off to the Chowder House for dinner.
I ordered the fish and chips (I don’t think I could handle any more chowder), and Sam … Sven? Martin? … asked for a burger.
I see the Landgraabs eat here too. That’s good to know.
As we waited for our meal, I took a trip to the washroom to freshen up some. I returned, to see that Maxwell, or Samwell or whatever was not there!
Seriously? I mean, it wasn’t a date or anything, but I did pay for food he hadn’t eaten … did he just grab all the food and take off!?
Ah. No, he’s just outside, chatting up a couple of women. Class act, Sam.
The food arrived, and Samwise was actually a decent conversationalist. However, it turns out he’s a “entrepreneurial music enthusiast”. An unemployed musician. Fine. Well, the meal was nice anyway, and I haven’t got food poisoning from it yet. I said goodnight to my new friend, and thanked him for a nice evening.
But, morning comes early, as mornings tend to do, and I really should sleep before Monday begins.
Damn, this transformed bed is *really* comfy. Maybe I’ll sell it tomorrow, but not … not, quite… well, maybe.