August 22, 2007

"Hi there, what would you like?"

"Two chicken tikka mass-"

"Sorry, what table number?"

"Oh. I don't know. Can I go and check?"

"Yes."

Zeds: "Oh, can I order?"

Barmaid: "No. I'm in the middle of an order."

Zeds: [brain starts to flicker like a just ignited boiler]

Old bingo-winged witch returns: "23."

"23?"

"The table number you just asked for."

"Oh yeah. So what did you want?"

"Erm, two chicken tikka mass-"

"Hang on," says her friend. "What about the vouchers?"

"The vouchers?"

"Yes, the vouchers."

"Oh, those vouchers?"

"Yes."

"Can we get money off with these vouchers?"

"Which vouchers?"

*rummages in bag*

"These."

*examines vouchers*

"No, it's the wrong chain. We're a different company."

*ruffled feathers*

"Well, that's disgraceful. You can't do that to pensioners. We have rights, you know."

Zeds: [Slips, hands in pockets, quietly into Defcon 5]

"Er, I know," says the barmaid. "But that's not our company. It's a completely different one. And, well, people are waiting-" - with a nod to the glowing plutonium rod stood behind them - "so, can I take your order?"

*old people mutter*

"Well, we'd like two chicken tikka-"

"Massallas?" asks the barmaid.

"Yes. How did you know? And - ooh - some chicken nuggets, with chips and beans."

"Okay."

"No, hang on. Can you put the beans on a different plate? If that's not too difficult?"

Barmaid looks at melting remains of Zeds, who is about to implode that much he will eventually reform through eons of time and actually become another planet.

"Yes, we can do that."

"Oh. And some coffee. And fruit for the little one. Have you got fruit?"

"Yes."

"And a Fanta."

"We don't serve Fanta."

"You don't serve Fanta?"

"No. Like I just said. But we do serve Fruitshoots."

"What are they?"

"Shoots. Of fruit."

"Do they come in UpsideDownMelonMothball flavour?"

Barmaid, terse: "No."

"Oh. I'll have a blackcurrant one then."

"Okay. Is that all?"

"Hang on. How much is that?"

"£13.47."

"Oh dear. Can you split this £20 note into two tens?"

"Erm, yes."

"And now split one of those tens into two fives, and then one of the fives into five pound coins?"

Barmaid, weary: "Yes."

"Thank you, lovey."

"You're welcome."

"Oh. I need a receipt. And oh, hang on. I forgot about Bob. "

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!