"AAAARGH!" came the scream from the kitchen. The female behemoth at the table looked up casually, raised her eyebrows, then promptly went back to reading her magazine. The cook was, as usual, trying to fix some disaster already declared illegal in 40 of the 50 states, and, as usual, had succeded in burning not only himself but also half the kitchen. About that time, a frying pan was hurled through the door and landed at her feet. This was getting rather annoying to her.
"Hunter!" she screamed in a shrill voice capable of shattering glass when she so willed it. The cook emerged from the kitchen, fuming, both literally and figuratively, greasy apron adorning the front of his ratty, torn jeans. Blond hair framed his face, which was smudged with dirt and God-knows-what from the mighty explosion in the back. Hands on hips, he waited to hear why he had been called out. He quickly received his answer. "What on Earth are you doing back there? You sound like you just murdered something!" He snorted derisively.
"I did...my sanity." Chyna sighed and handed the cooking pot back to him.
"Well, could you try to keep it down a little, please? Some of us are trying to work here." Hunter looked around the restaurant. From what he could see, he was the only one doing any work at the moment. Chyna had been sitting at a table for the better half of an hour, flipping idly through a magazine that lay open before her. X-Pac, or Sean as he was called outside the ring, was sitting on the complete other side of the building, reading a book and absent mindedly nibbling on a plate of french fries at his side. And his dishwashers...ah, those trusty, loyal dishwashers...they had long ago given up actually working after only a week of a real job, and, having nowhere else to turn, Hunter took the Outlaws under his wing and gave them jobs as the official keepers of the cleanliness of the inn. Unfortunately, Hunter had been under the misguided conception that these boys actually intended on working, and the Outlaws had apparently been under the assumption that there was no work to be done. Of course, they had done a little in their first week or so of employment. Washing several loads of dishes just as fast as El' Bussboy could bring them, and had somehow convinced Hunter that they were going to earn their money. He quickly learned, however, that all in life is not as it would seem. He sighed and, clutching the frying pan tighter, made his way back to the kitchen.
"Oh my..." he started as he saw his "masterpiece" bubbling over into the floor. Vegetables, fruits, and an odd-looking orange goo was now covering the stove he had been using and the counters around it. "Yo, Billy!" he yelled behind his back, hoping one of the dishwashers would hear him. It wasn't Gunn that showed up, but Road Dogg at his side. He sighed again. Close enough. "I need this cleaned up, and I need it cleaned now! We're about to hit dinner time...you know that's when we're busiest. I expect this clean by the time I get back." Jesse saluted him, smiled, then took to the stove with a feather duster. Hunter began to correct him, but he figured it would keep him busy and out of trouble, so atleast it served a little purpose. He then leaned back and took a glance around the kitchen. Pots and pans and bowls and other cooking utensils lined the racks above the stoves and tables, and in the side was the dish washer, where Billy stood watching the dirty plates going by on the conveyor belt. Hunter started to ask him why he was just watching, but quickly decided against it. It was not his matter, not his job, and not his concern. He was, however, concerned with the growing hatefulness of his bussboy. Sean had been such a light-hearted, carefree Degenerate when he first employed him. He now hated all humanity with a passion, or so it seemed. So much so that he had even taken up smoking to disuade people from bothering him. Pushing open the door, Hunter looked out and saw him sitting in the farthest corner of the restaurant, still reading. The door to the restaurant opened then, and in walked their first customers of the night. "Show time," he muttered as he tapped Chyna on the shoulder and pointed at the people about to sit down.
"Do I have to?" she whined back at him. He pulled a dollar bill from his pocket, waved it, and she took the hint. He had developed that method long ago as a reminder: no work, no pay. She rose to her feet and walked over to the small family at the front. The family was, of course, a "perfect" one with two perfectly married people, a perfect young son, and a perfect older sister. She assumed their dog wore sweaters, too. They smiled when they saw her, the husband speaking first.
"This seems like a fine place to eat! We'll just have your special, thanks." Chyna frowned.
"Yeah, ya might, but first you have to have a seat. This way." She smiled faintly and "showed" them to a table. Hunter made a mental note to talk to her. She merely pointed at a table and told the family that "it's free", then left to go back to her magazine. She was almost back when the father called her back over to them.
"Um, miss...we're ready to order now." Chyna breathed a sigh of relief. Atleast this might go quickly. "We want...a steak, medium rare, no side dressings. Tossed salad, no radishes. Hamburger, no pinkness or anything like that." Hunter frowned then. Were they insulting his cooking? He was a perfectly fine cook, atleast in his own mind. The father continued, much to Chyna's chagrin. "Four Cokes. No, make that three Cokes and a Mountain Dew." Chyna marked out her writing and quickly scribbled something down. She turned to leave when the father spoke again. "Excuse me, I change my mind. Just make it two Cokes and a Mountain Dew, and a glass of water with chipped ice." Chyna gritted her teeth, but remembered "service with a smile" and, after doing so, turned to go back to the kitchen. Again the father drew her back. "We're not done ordering yet, Ma'am." Chyna had heard enough by this point.
"Yes, you are." and before the father could respond, she had left and wandered back to where Hunter stood, watching with a bemused expression on his face. The youngest son in the family, however, took it upon himself to wander around the place, eventually stumbling upon the less-than-humerous X-Pac at his table. He looked down at the little human at his side.
"What?" he asked gruffly. The boy climbed up in the seat across from him. Sean, sighing, narrowed his eyes at the child. "Did I tell you you could sit there?" The boy shook his head no.
"Whatcha readin'?" he asked through a gap toothed smile. Sean looked across at him.
"A book. What's it to ya?"
"Is it a good book?"
"Very, but only when little annoying people aren't bothering me." The child didn't take the hint.
"Why is your shirt red like that?" Syxx thought back to the Kool-Aid another annoying brat had spilled on him earlier that day, but he decided he could use that to his advantage now.
"Because there was another little boy, just like you, that came in here earlier. He bugged me so much, I took him back in the kitchen and put him through the meat grinder. Any questions?" The boy, eyes wide, let out a small whimper and then ran screaming back to his parents. Sean smiled and went back to his reading. "That'll teach the little brat to mess with me."
In the back, Hunter watched as his masterpieces were being brought out of the oven one by one, each a virtual work of art. The steak was perfect (once you ignored that annoying red liquid running from it) and the salad had not one trace of a radish. He was rather pleased with himself. After placing them all on plates and then on one big tray, he sent Chyna back to the table of perfect people and crying child. She asked half-heartedly if they'd like anything more, and it was brought to her attention by the mother that her ice was block, not chipped as requested. Chyna took the cup, put an ice cube in her mouth, then chewed it up and spit it back.
"There...it's chipped now," she replied casually as she left the now disgusted family alone. Sean looked up from his place at the table and actually smiled. She seemed to be the only one that shared his opinion of this place.
Suddenly a bus pulled up outside, causing Syxx's face to drain of all color. He immediately dropped his book and ran back to the kitchen, swinging open the door and subsequently throwing a plate full of macaroni salad back at Hunter. "Dude....we got a problem!" HHH looked at him, annoyed, but interested as to why Sean, of all people, actually acted excited.
"What?" he asked drolly as he picked a yellow noodle from his hair.
"Look," Sean pointed outside. Hunter had much the same reaction as had Syxx.
"Church group!"
