Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by monstrosity, May 1, 2012.


    The television blared as it drew in the hour. That hour. Every night at eight they would dedicate an entire hour to New York City's one and only superhero. The news anchors went on and on about how he cleaned the streets and made it so they would all sleep soundly at night. Agnes tried her very best to ignore it, like trying not to swat at a fly that was hovering next to your ear. The door jingled as a group of young men entered, looking about nineteen or twenty and heavy reeking of marijuana. The sign said seat yourself but they still approached her, even though the diner was empty. "Table for four." One of them said. "Haha, for for!" Another laughed.

    Agnes clenched her teeth and showed them to their table, setting out the menus with the grumpiest face possible. "Drinks." She commanded instead of inquiring, pen and notepad at the ready. All of them ordered soda and the disgruntled waitress went to go get their drinks. She chewed at her lip, trying to keep her cool as she thought about how she was a superhero reduced to a bloody waitress because they had to give her the "least conspicuous job" and landed her in this hell hole where she had to deal with people everyday. Agnes - no, The Prowler - should be out there right now in the heat of battle, helping people by saving their skins and not bringing them sugar based beverages.

    She placed the drinks on the table, and once again commanded their food orders. Four deluxe burgers. My god could none of them think independently or were they all just one being? She scuffed as she walked away, putting the order in with the kitchen staff. The four knuckleheads caught sight of the television as they began playing that stupid theme song of his and began singing it aloud. First of all the song was terrible but these fellows singing it off-key made it even worse. She could feel her anger rising and cracked her knuckles in an attempt to calm herself which didn't help much.

    The food was handed off to her and she transported it to the table and began setting it all down. "Uhhh, I need salt." One of them looked at her as she set his food in front of him. "There's salt right there on the table." Agnes growled, continuing to place the other three plates down. "Hey, so, what are you up to later tonight?" Another asked as he ate a fistful of fries. "Nothing that has to do with you." She snapped. "Do you have a boyfriend?" Another piped in, chuckling. "Wha-" "Can I touch your boobs?" Fist curled tight, Agnes didn't think, only retracted her arm and nailed the sucker square in the nose. "You mother fucker, I will rip the heart straight out of you." Agnes hissed, gathering up his shirt collar and moved to take a second punch.

    "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" A roar erupted from the kitchen as her manager watched through the food window. "YOU'RE FIRED, GET OUT NOW." Agnes glared at the overweight man and dropped the kid. She untied her apron and tossed it on the floor, making sure to step on it as she walked across the diner to gather her jacket and promptly stormed out, slamming the door. Briskly she walked into the night, headed for the tiny apartment she called home, openly cursing as the air that left her mouth turned to vapor and quickly disappeared. Agnes dug out the box of cigarettes from her pocket and lit it, taking a long drag before releasing the smoke into the air. Cigarettes only did so much. What she needed was a fight, but ever since that guy showed up she wasn't 'allowed'.

    Agnes made it home in about five minutes, unlocking the door and letting herself in, and flipping on the light. She ditched her shoes and jacket at the door, still thoroughly ticked off. The woman made her way to the fridge and tugged a beer bottle out of the cold, easily removing the cap and taking a swig. "Here's to the third job in six months." She grumbled to herself and relaxed against her kitchen counter. Oh yes, life was just bloody peachy.