The Coffee Generation

    "Looks like a damned Bela Lugosi convention."  Manfred slapped into the booth, not bothering to look at the menu, and sneered at the other diners.  Almost everyone sported a high-collared cape and sickly white pallor.  "How on earth do they eat with those plastic fangs?"
    "Lighten up, Manny.  It's Halloween, after all.  Let them have their fun.  Besides, this is the best coffee shop in town."
    Manfred ignored her, fiddling with his silverware like a petulant child.  The flatware reflected his immaculate red satin shirt.  He'd disdained the customary costumes and chosen instead to pose as a world-weary Lucifer.  Anne had to admit the outfit suited him.  He was a handsome devil.
    A waiter placed two coffee cups on their table and filled them.
    "It's about time."  Manfred cradled his cup between well-manicured hands.  "Well just have coffee."
    The waiter sniffed and rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes.  Manfred grimaced at the long, broken-nailed hand that collected their menus and nudged Anne.  "Did you see his nails?  Looks like he's been butchering meat in the kitchen."
    Anne snapped open her cigarette case.  "Hell, you've done nothing but gripe since we got here."  She blew smoke in his face and gazed moodily at the other diners.  The place did look like a Halloween refugee camp.  "They usually prepare for the 2 A.M. rush about this time.  Seems like anyone who didn't pair up at the bars stops here for coffee.  And by then they've worked up appetites."  She glanced at her watch for confirmation, settled back in their booth and studied her companion.
    She'd bumped into Manfred at the Knight Out, recognizing his lanky frame reflected in the dance floor mirrors.  She had second thoughts when she drew close enough to see his face, but by then he'd grabbed her shoulders and delivered an electrifying kiss that sizzled clean to her toes.  No wonder she'd once loved him.  Manfred had taught her everything she knew, made her what she was today ...then left her.  He wasn't to blame; it was his nature.  Since then, she'd ran through an entire starting line up of men.  Anne smiled tightly.  It was in her nature, too.
    "How'd you find this place, anyway?"  Manfred favored her with his most enticing smile.  Anne raised an eyebrow.  So, he'd finally decided to be civil.  Probably scared he wouldn't get into her pants if he didn't straighten up.  She let her gaze run over his torso.  Lord, he had a great bod.  If not for that, she wouldn't be caught dead with the jerk.
    "Graveyard shift.  You know how I love coffee."  She paused as a noisy party of eight, shaking off the autumn chill, stomped into the restaurant.  They hooted and hollered and swayed.  No doubt about it.  The bars had closed.
    One, a stocky redneck with a swollen beer belly, targeted Anne in her skimpy black dress and staggered over.  He leaned down, eyes brushing her cleavage.
    "Hey, hey.  I've caught me Elvira.  Here, sweet thing, why don't y'all dump this fag and sit with us?"  He pawed drunkenly at her hair.  "I'll show you a good old time."
    "Drop dead."
    "Come on, sweetie.  You know you want it."
    Manfred sighed and grabbed the man's wrist as it made a dive for Anne's chest.
    "The lady doesn't want to be disturbed."  His black, black gaze pinned the drunk like a bug on a pin.
    The man ripped his hand away with a tiny squeal.  "Hey, I'm bleeding!"  He stared at the five dripping weals that braceleted his wrist.
    Manfred stood up and flexed, smiled a little.  "Be thankful it's not your neck."
    Anne heaved a bored sigh.  They were all alike.  Typical macho bullshit.
    "You're gonna be sorry, asshole!"  The drunk snatched the a fork from the table and stabbed at Manfred.  Anne's date slid aside like a matador, caught the hand jabbing at him, twisted downward and around.  There was a sickening snap, then Manfred stepped back.  The drunk goggled at the fork that dangled from his useless hand.  Manfred bared his teeth in a feral smile.
    "Go away little man."
    The drunk stumbled back to his friends, retching.  "I'm gonna sue!"  he screamed.  "Somebody call the cops!"  The jagged-nailed waiter rushed to him and ushered the entire party into the private section.
    "My, you certainly showed him.  I am impressed."  Anne's words dripped with venom.  "Wasn't that a bit like Superman beating up Jimmy Olson?"
    "Maybe next time I'll let the man rip your blouse off."
    "At least it'd be a break in the routine.  Gawd!  I'm so bored!"  She stared gloomily at her coffee.  From bop to disco to hip hop.  Club music never changed, just filed off the serial numbers.  "I hate staying up.  I never was a night person."
    "You should have thought of that before you took up with me."
    "I was young then.  I never thought."  She relented.  "Oh, sit down and drink your coffee."
    Manfred broke into a satisfied smile.  He slid back into the booth just as shrieks erupted from the vicinity of the kitchen.  Anne thought she recognized the redneck's voice.
    "More coffee?"  Their server didn't wait for an answer and filled their cups.  Anne noted his hands were red to the wrists.  "Oh, the manager asked me to apologize for the disturbance.  He wanted you to be his special guests tonight.  Two specials, on the house."
    The screams had died away.
    Manny's smile failed to reflect in his coffee.  But then, it never did.
    "I did work up an appetite.  Anne?"
    She tongued dagger-like canines, perfect matches to her companion's.  "Tell your boss, we'd be happy to accept."  She turned her smile on Manny.  He really did have a lovely body.
    "I knew you'd like this place."
 
 

 

I prithee, an thou hast enjoyed rest and merriment whilst pausing at the Gallery, scribe thy thoughts to the good gentle below.
 
 

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 Except for where otherwise noted, all works and character concepts are Copyrighted 1997