Death at Burgerking
"One large fry and a Whopper please." The young Goth boy spouted out without looking up from the novel he had been scanning as he waited for his turn to order.
"Keep your shirt on," the server replied, irritated, as he shuffled back to the register and shoved a bag of soggy food into the hands of a mother toting a screaming three year old.
Surprised by the blatant rudeness of the server's voice, the Goth teen slammed the novel shut and glanced up, prepared to snap at the server for his impoliteness, but then stopped in his tracks. He stared at the figure in front of him. Red glowing eyes stared back beneath the shadowy robe that was pulled up high around the robed figures face. Skeleton fingers taped impatiently on the steel countertop as the boy stared, his jaw unhinged, struck to sudden silence. "You're the …the grim reaper," the boy managed to stutter after a short period of time.
"Yeah, yeah, demon of death and chaos. What do you want kid?" The grim reaper shot back glancing over the young boy's shoulder at the growing line of customers.
Numbly, the boy repeated his order and gave the grim reaper his money. "Your number is 32, kid. I'll call you when your food is ready," the grim reaper said in a bored voice. He turned to address the next customer, but the teen stepped quickly in front of him.
"How did you end up working here?" the boy asked rapidly.
The grim reaper lifted boney fingers to rub his forehead in annoyance. "Look kid, the whole point of giving customers numbers is so that they would sit down and shut up until their food comes." Making a half-hearted shooing motion with his hand, the grim reaper turned back to the other customers, "Next."
"I'm just curious," the boy replied, diving once more into the grim reaper's field of view.
"What do you expect, kid? With all the media coverage and people harping on each other to eat healthy, exercise, and all that crap, people just are not dying as fast as they use to. I have to make a living too, you know. Do you know how expensive it is to get full body robes dry-cleaned these days? It's freaking murder…"
"Excuse me, but some of us would order before tomorrow." A man dressed in a rather expensive suit shouted from halfway down the line.
"Hey, shut up and wait your turn," the grim reaper shouted back. "It is not like you are going to live to eat it anyway." The man glared at him and stomped towards the door, slamming it as he left.
Meanwhile, a voice from the kitchen called out 32. The grim reaper grabbed the bag and held it out towards the boy. Just then, the sound of brakes squealing in the parking lot followed by a loud crash, and the sound of shattering glass broke the idle chatter in the room. Customers rushed out of line to the nearest windows to gawk at the scene.
"Told him," the grim reaper said smugly. The boy turned to stare at him. The grim reaper just shook his head. After glancing at the shocked expression on the boy's face, he flicked his wrist toward the windows, "Don't worry, I'll get that on my lunch break." They boy nodded mutely, took the bag from the grim reaper, and headed for the exit. As he reached for the door, the grim reaper shouted back to him, "See you in a month."