Ice cream contest day is great because the shift goes fast and you gets great tips. Ice cream contest day is awful because it's too busy and you're supposed to be on your best behavior, and Jupiter cannot consciously behave. Still, she manages. Blue and pink aren't exactly great colors on her, but she rocks them the best she can anyway in that cutesy 1950s diner waitress uniform as she sidles up to an occupied booth, notepad in hand. "What can I ge'cha, honey?"
"A will to live," Mary Grace says to the ground, forehead pressed against the table, and lets out a pitiful moan. She's apparently experiencing the consequences for her actions, which, until now, was a concept she'd only heard tales of.
"Mmhmm, that sounds like gravy fries and a bucket to me," Jupiter says with a nod, writing something down on her notepad with a sage nod (it's a drawing of a stick figure). She peers over the order pad at Mary Grace and shuffles back a half step, out of the splash zone. "How 'bout at least a glass of water? You put away some serious frozen treats there, lady."
Mary Grace wrinkles her nose. "Who drinks water?" She reluctantly raises her head from the table, and there's a rectangular red mark imprinted on her forehead. "But I'd fuck with some fries." Some people just refuse to learn.
"Hair of the dog that bit you. I feel that, my little pony," Jupiter's eyes go a little wide at that red splotch on Mary Grace's forehead, but her head bobbles up and down in affirmation. Never one to actually successfully help any situation before making it worse, she adds, "You want cheese and bacon on that too?"
Has he been here the whole time, head ducked down, just waiting for his older sister? That would, likely, be granting Atlas far too much credit. He has never planned that far ahead for anything. And still, he peeks up, and snaps a camera in her face. (Where did it come from? How long did he have it? Who knows.) He takes great pains to get the whole unholy diner getup. "Christmas card?"
"I will do worse than a murder," she threatens glibly, pointing the eraser of her pencil in Atlas's direction. "Unlessssss, you take one with me. Here..." She plops down in the booth next to Atlas and tries to wrestle the camera off of him, ostensibly to get a selfie, but hard to say the true motivation.
"Whatever happened to professionalism!" Atlas whines, and holds the camera up in the air in a game of keep-away. "You're supposed to be serving!"
He holds it static juuust over his head, because while he absolutely will surrender a selfie in exchange for a murder, he is contractually obliged to make it difficult.
"Not serving looks, Mr. Paparazzi!" Jupiter is pretty much immediately distracted from the camera when she has the brilliant idea to put her brother in a headlock and try to give him a noogie. "Come here baby brother. I love you." she coos.
Ah, the familiar feeling of a sibling embarrassing him in the middle of a restaurant for literally no reason whatsoever. The camera drops into his booth, unharmed but free territory. He needs both hands to punch, useless, at his sister's arm. "I want! To talk! To! The! Manager!"
But it's not very loud, because he doesn't really want to get her fired.
"I am the manager!" she declares with more authority than is warranted by someone who is plainly not the manager as she tries to dodge Atlas's fists, hellbent on tormenting him. "Look at these flimsy chicken arms."
Either Zippy is deaf or he is well acquainted with Quigley violence after years of them, because he doesn't even look their way.
It is possibly embarrassing, how predictably Atlas's outrage sparks at that. "YOU have flimsy chicken arms!!" He insists, reverting instantly to toddlerhood, and sending useless punches while trying to wriggle out of her grasp. He grabs on to one to demonstrate, and also attempt to duck under and free himself. "I could SNAP YOU and ruin your LIVELIHOOD." He could not.
All right. So mid-noogie, the chicken noise makes him burst into laughter. So what. And it's absolutely a distraction enough; his camera slips out of his hands. He takes the opportunity to slip to the side and pull his most exaggerated pout. "Christmas is ruined!" He declares.
"Call me Krampus," Jupiter returns, sounding victorious as she leaps from the booth, nearly tripping over herself in the process, too much leg and arm to spare. She cackles, snapping a quick photo of her distraught brother, and then flees having never taken his order at all.
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peckenpaugh2019-12-11 11:08 am
THE ZIPPY DIP
Jup Waits (Open++)
Jup Waits, Mary Grace Dies
Jup Waits, Mary Grace Dies
Jup Waits, Mary Grace Dies
Jup Waits, Mary Grace Dies
Jup Waits, Mary Grace Dies
"Ffffffuuuuuggggg," she mutters into her own thighs, and she seems dismayed with herself even as she keeps going, "Of course I do."
Jup Waits on a Pain
Jup Waits on a Pain
Jup Waits on a Pain
He holds it static juuust over his head, because while he absolutely will surrender a selfie in exchange for a murder, he is contractually obliged to make it difficult.
Jup Waits on a Pain
How has she not been fired yet?
Jup Waits on a Pain
But it's not very loud, because he doesn't really want to get her fired.
Jup Waits on a Pain
Either Zippy is deaf or he is well acquainted with Quigley violence after years of them, because he doesn't even look their way.
Jup Waits on a Pain
He could not.
Jup Waits on a Pain
Zippy Dip patrons are getting quite a show at this point.
But her baby brother is sufficiently distracted now, and Jupiter makes a grab for the camera.
Jup Waits on a Pain
Jup Waits on a Pain