Friday, July 2, 2010

Dead Rite chapter 12.04

"You think you're so funny, don't you? I bet you were practicing that one for ages."

"Madam, it's spontaneous. It's called wit."

"I'll give you wit. You owe me four-fifty."

"I'd engage in a battle of wits with you, but I fear you'd be unarmed." Dill snorted, a spray of old, dark blood ejecting from his nose and landing on the table.

Sam laughed. "You should see your face."

"Here, are you all right? You look a bit pale. Do you want me to call an ambulance?" The waitress handed Dill a paper napkin and he began dabbing at his nose."

"I'll be fine." He opened the makeshift handkerchief to look at the blood. His mother used to say blood always looked worse than it really was. He hoped that was the case now. "It's just a bit of a nosebleed. Any chance of another coffee?" He handed her the napkin.

She backed away. "Not until you pay for the first one, no. And there's a bin over there."

"Never mind, Dill. Leave off. She's never going to give you one." Sam began pulling on his sock and shoe. "Come on. The sooner we get to college the quicker we can go home. The light's hurting my eyes."

"Right you are, mate." Dill stood and looked at the waitress, balling the napkin in his hand. "Can I have your phone number?"

"It's in the book."

"But I don't know your name!"

"Start at A. You'll get to me."

"Thanks." Dill turned to catch up with Sam'

The waitress narrowed her eyes. "What about the bill? You owe me four-fifty, you loser."

Dill turned back and put his arm across her shoulders. "Tell you what. How about you let us off the bill and I won't mention the lack of a first aid kit to the authorities, nor the cock-up[ on the order to your boss."

She shrugged off his arm. "One, we did have a first aid kit. Two, there was nothing wrong with the order. Your monkey-mate distinctly said 'frappuccino' and three, you stink like something died and crawled up your arse. So give me the four-fifty you owe me and naff off."

"Right." Dill sighed heavily and pulled out his wallet. "I've only got five quid."

"That'll be the ten per-cent tip." She plucked it from his hand. "Ta."

Sam watched her leave. "That was your plan, was it mastermind? Get her to hate you and clean you out all in one go." He snickered. "Did you get married and I missed it?"

"Very funny."

"I liked what you said about wit. That was clever. I can never think of things on the spot."

"I'll let you in on a secret. Nor can I. Those lines were Oscar Wilde's."

"Ha." Sam nodded, looking at Dill sideways. "I knew you were gay."