Smile n' Serve

'Smile and Serve'

This place looks good, yes fine fine fine. Bensen thought as she
strolled into the coffee shop. Not too crowded, not at all, not at all.
She ordered her usual black coffee, chose a seat in the corner and lit
up an Ultra Light cigarette. She didn't much care for the plain taste
of Ultra Light smokes, she found them bland and uneffective actually.
She couldn't quite remember why she had purchased that particular
brand, but she couldn't quite remember anything these days. The doctor
told me to, she concluded, it's always the doctor's way, do what he
says, what he says, he said so. This simple thought disappeared an
instant after it was developed. Perhaps, she didn't even realize it had
come and gone, that it was simply subconscious. She cared as much for
her thoughts and she did the sour after taste of cigarettes she didn't
even like. So her increasing forgetfulness didn't phase her in the
least. She continued to take in the new atmosphere.

The flower displays are nice, just nice, too nice, fake. The flowers
were indeed fake, places as busy as Margaret's Coffee Hut couldn't be
expected to keep up with living plants. Too much hassle. I could do it
for them, but I won't, don't want to, don't want to, nope. The teenage
employee had smiled at her while serving Bensen her simple request for
plain black coffee. That was good, too good, too good, fake. The girl
had stopped smiling now and shyly stared at the thirty-something woman
sitting in the corner now laughing to herself. A thought had come to
her along with a burst of giddiness causing such laughter.

She watched the young girl now embarrassed for staring and remembered a
time when she worked in a similar place. She had only been twenty or
twenty-one, just into college if she remembered correctly, she likely
didn't. She had caught on quickly to the smiling and serving attitude
one needed for such a job, she didn't much care for it, but she needed
the money. She couldn't recall what she had needed the money for
exactly, perhaps college? Or were her parent's wealthy? Whoever they
were, that didn't matter now. Smile and serve, smile and serve, fake,
just fake, too fake, money, money, money. She was serving tea to a
young girl she remembered, maybe about seven or eight years, and she
tipped it over the counter and badly burned the little child. On
purpose? Maybe. She didn't much care for the little brat, and so she
continued to smile and serve, serving turned to burning and smiling
turned to laughter. She was fired.

Bensen sighed as she finished feeling giddy about such an event and
began writing on her cigarette package with a pen stolen from the
woman's purse sitting next to her. The woman hadn't said anything,
nothing at all. She had wanted to, but was frightened by Bensen's
somewhat rough appearance. Her messy long dark hair and dirty
fingernails sent a chill up the woman's spine and she feared the
younger of the two might hurt her. Perhaps she would have. Therefore
nothing was done about the stolen item, it was just a writing utensil
after all. Not to worry. None the less, the elder moved her purse
towards her chest and moved slowly to the door as if it were a bear, a
monster, that had been sitting so close to her and not a untidy women
who was thirty-something.

Bensen hadn't noticed the fear in the lady beside her and perhaps had
no idea that she had gone, or was even there in the first place. She
continued to write on her package, she wrote her name, over and over.
BENSEN, BENSEN, BENSEN... the word would have begun to lose it's
meaning by now if it had been anyone else with the pen in hand. But for
Bensen, it had lost all meaning quite some time ago. It wasn't even her
real name, her last name maybe. That's what the doctor's call me,
Bensen don't do this, Bensen don't do that, do this, do that, this,
that. A phase of laughter overcame her again as she recalled doing this
very same thing. Same thing, only it hadn't been a pen, but rather and
knife. And there had been blood, lots of blood. When was that? Where
was that? Oh yes, yes, yes, yes. She smiled as she lifted her sleeve
and admired her own handy work on her arm. The smile wasn't fake like
when she worked at good ol' Smile and Serve, it was a true smile of
accomplishment. She'd managed to stop the bleeding, she was proud of
that. No more blood, more blood, blood blood blood.

She noticed a newspaper left on a nearby chair and grabbed it, not
taking into consideration that there was a man on a cell phone who had
been looking through it. She recognized herself on the front page and
was delighted at her small fame. She began to laugh again. They must
have really liked my work, my work was good, very good, well done, well
done.

Alongside her profile was a young girl from the home at which she
stayed. A place with lots of doctors, she recalled, doctors, doctors,
damn doctors. The girl had her hair all cut off in large chunks and
glued back on, glued to different parts of her face. It looks
wonderful, wonderful, good, good. The girl had also been tied up and
gaged and according to the headlines, the doctors and such didn't much
like that.

Some men in blue suits stormed into the small coffee shop just then,
Bensen was still in hysterics over what a great job she did, she
concluded that it looks so much better now secretly hoping that the man
who had the paper in the first place thought so too. That same man was
now pointing her out to the blue men. Well, he recognizes my celebrity,
I'm famous, fame is good, fame is fake, good fake. More laughter.

The men in blue were quick to grab Bensen and escort her out of
Margaret's. She didn't quite care much for this, but was still
laughing, therefore, in a good mood none the less. She saw a sign that
read "Due to the busy nature of this store, customers are not allowed
to stay inside for more then 30 minutes. Thank you." You're welcome,
she thought, perhaps I've stayed my half hour and it's time for me to
leave, thank you young blue men for the help, very helpful, helpful
indeed, indeed. She imagined them saying "You're welcome Bensen the
Great." And now her laughs were accompanied by happy screams of "Thank
you! Thank you! THANK YOU!!!" And she was taken away.

Bensen was reminiscing about a time when she painted some pills, given
to her by the doctors, with nail polish and wore then as beads as she
sat in another coffee shop of sorts. This one isn't quite as nice, no
not nice, not nice at all, boring boring boring, it'll do though, it'll
do. There were no flowers or happy employees, just plain white walls.
She wished she had some Ultra Lights to accompany the blandness of the
atmosphere, but that was not allowed here. A worker in white handed her
a cup full of pills and she replied, "No thank you, no thank you, no
thank you." The stern looking worker insisted, "It's what's best for
you, the doctor says you have to." Bensen instantly took the pills. Do
what the doctor says, what he says, he said so."

Marie Terrault *041502*