HOLY HELL! This story ROCKS my Mother F'n socks OFF! --Mark Twain
Mart woke up at six o clock, two hours earlier than usual, ate a hardy breakfast, showered, put on his cleanest uniform and, with the extra hour, practiced his speech that would get him the raise and respect he deserved, and unknowingly bring about the biggest change known to man.
It was Wednesday and the last Wednesday at his job as Wednesday’s busboy. He wanted to be a waiter, and if they would not give it to him he would quit. Mart could not afford anything else; this was the year he was finally going back to college, and he could not do it with a busboys income.
The place was empty when Mark arrived. He headed to his locker, grabbed an apron and checked the schedule. Everybody was still listed, yet the place was dead. No customers, no workers. What was wrong here? He went out into the main dining area. It was packed, but not with people. In fact, these people didn’t look like real people at all; They were life-size rag dolls, each sitting at a table with a full plate of food. How’d they get there, was this some sort of bi annual tradition at Wednesdays that nobody told him about? Then he heard the clank of silver wear and chatter that was his daily soundtrack for the past two years. It was coming from the back section of the restaurant, the section that was reserved for special occasions. He poked his head in and looked around. The tables were each set with a unique style of bouquet, intricate folded napkins and complex table designs. All of them were filled with the same kind of lifeless rag dolls from before, except these sported tuxedos and sparkly ballroom dresses. The noise was coming from a booth in the far corner of the hall. He crept closer, crouching low and out of view. He could just hear what they were saying.
“John slivers come out disconfigured my dear, frothy filth in my bunghole, ha! I never Rupert!”
“C’mon then, just Give me this one and ill give you that one!”
“I don’t want that one. “
“C’mon Gobo! Just one!”
“Just one huh?”
“yes just one.”
“Just one or just three! I know you’ll get the taste and I wont here the end of it until you get more! “
“Gobo, I will give you my soul if I ask for another,”
“Give me your soul now Ill hold on to it until I’m done!”
“WHAT! Don’t you trust me? What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
“It’s your soul or no meatball.”
“Gast, fine ill give you eight of my Wafflepans!”
“Deal.”
Mart slouched down right against the back of the booth.
“Jesus Rupert, I can’t take you anywhere.”
“Oh get off it… like you never had one too many tiny toads… remember the barnyard picnic?”
“This is not a nativity scene!”
They both chortled loudly
“AH haw, Gobo you do me in, you do me in so… Good!
“What can I say Rupert…”
Their conversation suddenly stopped. A suspicious silence fell over the dinning hall. Mart’s face turned red as low whispers started from the table, followed by deep sniffs that sounded like they caught wind of something peculiar.
“Martha!” The one named Gobo shouted. “Is that you? I told you to stay in the basement! Have you been rolling around with Clyde again?”
The uneasy silence fell back as the men listened for a response.
Mart started to creep back too the doors like a fevered cartoon.
Hey! Mart heard just as he had his hand on the door. A man with a perfect egg shaped head glared at him with pitch black eyes. His head was completely barren from any sort of hair; instead his whole head was powdered white. Their nose and ears were three times smaller than the average man’s.
“You! Where have you been! We need Falafels!” Rupert cried
Mart stuttered, and seeing something in their vacant black eyes made him scared. He bolted out the door. A large gray gorilla with a crossbow greeted him from outside. Mart stumbled back in, falling on his ass.
“Get up,” the gorilla said in a deep voice.
He got up and was backed up back into the hall with his hands up like it was a robbery.
“Ah thank you, Hornsby. Is that a new crossbow, very eloquent.” Gobo said.
The gorilla nodded slowly and took its exit.
“Now, where were we, Ah yes the falafels.”
“WE need falafels!” Rupert shouted.
“Ah Yes, Falafels.”
The two men sat there and stared at the disjointed young Mart, waiting, longing for their falafels.
“Hey, who are you guys and—
“FALAFELS!” They slammed their hands on the table and started a loud chant. FALAFELS! FALAFELS! FALAFELS!
“Alright, ok hold on.” Mart headed towards the kitchen.
“Excuse me,” Rupert called after, “I would also like a bottle of Quaaludes, a puzzle of the statue of liberty; no more than 1000 pieces, and a two gallon jug of jack and coke, please, and go easy on the coke. The two men laughed.
“I don’t think we have that, sir.”
“Ok, then just bring me the Quaaludes and a liter of Jack.”
“I mean, we don’t have any of that… I don’t even know what Quaaludes are…”
“Then how do you know you don’t have them?”
“Because I know what we have and what we don’t have, and we don’t have any of those things. The best I can do are the falafels and a cup of jack and coke.”
Satisfied with himself, Mart turned on his heal and started back for the kitchen when Jeff barged in, Wednesday’s manager, trailed by the rest of Marts fellow employees, all clapping, all laughing.
“Awesome show,” Jeff said. You’ve passed the test, Great Job!
“Wag wa?” Mart said.
“I know you wanted to be a waiter, but I wasn’t sure if you were ready. This is the test we have given all our waiters. Rupert and Gobo stood and padded Mart on the back.
“Good job, kid.”
“Yeah, you got class; you’ll make a great waiter.” And they left.
“Wait, who, wha, he…” Mart choked, pointing after them.
“Ah yes, their real names are Flanyard and Amber. They’re two Hemoflans we found out back one night rummaging through our garbage. They agreed to be a part of our Wednesday’s training program in exchange for a lifetime deal of 25% percent off all meals. They have a spacecraft they use to travel to all the Wednesdays nationwide to sift through the best of the best Wednesday associates.” Well now it’s no wonder Wednesdays are known for top rate service.
“But what about, what about that gorilla?”
“Ah Marteeen, great joy! You do great! Real scary, no? Wednesdays fry cook sprang through the doors in a cheap dime store gorilla costume.
“But that’s not… that wasn’t, I mean it was a real gorilla and it sounded like Shaq, it had—“
“Listen, Jeff said putting his arm around Mart and pulling him away from the sounds of laughter and high fives of his celebrating co-workers. “Ok, listen Mart, What you saw was Roberto dressed up as Hornsby, the gorilla... now your probably wondering why we have a gorilla suit laying around… and that’s because corporate is sending them out to all Wednesdays’ in hope of making them our new mascot. ‘Come see Hornsby,’ Marts boss said jabbing the air at each word, ‘the Wednesdays African-Hump-Day-Gorilla, only on Wednesdays at Wednesdays!’ catchy, huh?” Marts boss brought him in closer, binding his clinch around Marts neck. So, were clear, right? No more questions, right?
Sure sure.
“Great! Now, you hungry for some iced cream?”
Mart’s co-workers had now picked up the rag dolls and were doing some sort of tango with them, except that one of the girls Mart had a crush on was sitting alone twiddling her thumbs.
“Bonita, can I have this dance?” Mart said real gentleman like.
She smiled bashfully and stood up. “I would, but I don’t know how to tango,” Bonita said as she stirred the ground with her toe.
“Well, of course you don’t, don’t you know it takes two to tango?” They laughed.
“No seriously, listen Bonita; we don’t have to do the tango if you don’t want to.” Mart said softly.
“Really Mart, you mean it?”
“Yes, I mean it. Just take my hand.” Bonita took his hand in hers as Mart gently placed his other hand on her hip. A free jazz tune played as Mart and Bonita swayed in each others gentle embrace. After the festivities Bonita went home with Mart. Mart became much more than a waiter that night—Mart became a man. He earned the money he needed for college, earned his degree that made him a shoo-in as Wednesdays new Manager, and married Bonita soon after. They had three kids named Tray, Jerome, and Spock.
The youngest, Spock, would grow up and take his dads position as Wednesdays manager, but would foolishly break the Hemophans 25% off contract with Wednesdays, which would propel earth into their first intergalactic war, or IWI as the history books would later call it. Unfortunately, earth looses the war and becomes a planet of Wednesdays which is used solely as a rest stop for tired and hungry Hemophlans as they travel past earth on vacation. However, and fortunately, this would force earth into a new type of socialized libertarian form of life that would bring the 209th Great, and greatest, Awakening upon the human civilization. All the humans have jobs, all the jobs are equal, they are ruled by government light-years away, and everybody lives awkwardly happy until the end of time, thanks to mart.