Orderly Chaos
Chapter 1 — The Blonde in Shining Armor
The Protagonist
I went into work at 8pm. Apparently it was a bartending shift. I don’t remember being a bartender, but I guess I got promoted. I went into the large building, a shopping mall. I took the escalator down to the basement level and entered the restaurant. Lavish. Wood interior. Full of “suits” drinking wine and their wives or mistresses hanging on their every word. I rolled my eyes in an almost seizure-like way. These are not the type of people that I ever wanted to be around, but I need the money so, whatever. “a$$h0l3s,” I muttered under my breath as I went to my assigned position.
I went behind the bar and saw a complete mess. Papers everywhere. “Who the f-?!?” I couldn’t believe how big of a mess these people leave their area where you’re supposed to be making drinks! The bar glasses were dirty. There were fruit flies everywhere, taunting me by flying into my face. “I’m here!!” I would imagine them gleefully yelling at me.
“Yeah, I know you’re here you little a$$h0l3s,” I thought to myself. “Ok. Where do I start? Oh $#!t! A customer!”
An older tall man walked into the restaurant, I immediately didn’t like him. He wore a black suit and a bow tie with a black hat. He had a thick black mustache and I could smell the pungent stench of cigars as soon as he came close. “Old Fashioned,” he demanded. “Great. One of these guys. Yeah, my name is @$%^#, nice to meet you too,” I thought to myself. I went to make an Old Fashioned and realized there were no liquor bottles anywhere. Or cherries. Or anything besides glasses. Just empty glasses. Dirty glasses but no liquor. I went to grab the phone to call the manager over to ask what was going on, and the man slammed his large hand down on the phone as soon as I was about to lift it up. “Old Fashioned,” he repeated. I smiled my “service smile” and in the stupidest perky voice I said “I just need to call my manager.” He looked at me as if he was going to stab me across the bar. He wouldn’t remove his hand from the phone. “Old Fashioned.” he repeated.
“Mot#@$ f#$%^ if you don’t let go of the phone…” I thought to myself. “Yes, sir. I just need to call my manager,” I repeated. His eyes, black as an empty void, were bloodshot and seething with anger. They seemed to become more red by the second. In his eyes I saw terror, horror, brutality… this man had done some vile things in his past, I don’t know how I knew, but I knew. He looked as if he was going to start hitting me right over the counter. He leaned forward and reached for something in his pocket and right as his hand was about to come out…
Our eyes locked and I felt my stomach begin to churn. I had never felt this way before in my life. It was like food poisoning mixed with dread and heartache. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to go home, I wanted to hug my mom, I wanted to die. “I finally found you,” he said, “and there’s no one to save you here.” I opened my mouth to say something in response, I don’t even remember what I was going to say. My world felt like it was going to end right then and there when all of a sudden…
*CLINK* “One Old Fashioned!” I looked to my left and saw a petite blond girl wearing the same outfit as me, except a bit nicer, place a drink down on the bar and slide it over to the man. I guess she was trying to look really cool and miserably failed (something I relate to on a spiritual level), because the drink flew into the man’s arm and promptly got his entire arm wet and sticky.
“Oopsies!” she exclaimed in a cheerful voice. The man looked like he had just been kicked in the nuts repeatedly by Bruce Lee himself for a split second and then I snapped out of it and he became a normal man again.
Before I continue, let me explain something to you. I am not crazy. I have had my issues in the past during my teen years and early adulthood, but I’m not crazy. I promise you, I am not f^#$#@ crazy. I have a wild imagination, and sometimes I say things that don’t make much sense, out of humor, but I promise you I. AM. NOT. CRAZY. I’m just a regular 27 year old with a wild imagination… but crazy, I am not.
Truths become lies and lies become truths.
While the girl went over and did the whole “profuse apology” thing to the man. I took the opportunity to escape to the bathroom. It was empty and the fluorescent lighting made me want to puke, as usual. After vigorously hurling my guts out, I looked at myself in the mirror. “Tired. Why do you always look so damn tired?”
I splashed some cold water on my face and felt reinvigorated. “Ok, we just need to get through this shift, and then we can go home and go to sleep.” I gave myself a thumbs up and a fist bump and went back out to the dining room to see how my blonde-girl-in-shining-armor was faring against the Maniac Man. Hmm… “The Maniac Man”… a fitting name for a gigantic soulless brute. “Time to put on my service face and get through these next 6 hours,” I said to myself as I walked out of the bathroom and back in to the dimly lit lounge. — — — — —
This story came to me one day while I took a nap. The dream barely made sense to me while it was happening, but everything I saw and felt is described above. I began writing it out in 2020, on Facebook, as status updates. Then I realized that I should probably do the story some justice and put it out there for whoever might possibly see it to see, and not confine it to my Facebook friends list. It’s a series, and I can vividly imagine the characters and the setting in my head. I’ve decided to start publishing the parts of the story I have so far on here. I don’t know if anyone will read it, but at least I can say I put it out there. Hope never dies.
Here is Chapter 2.
©2021, Omar Imam. All rights reserved.