|
Post by Sparky on Sept 7, 2009 18:09:01 GMT -5
Nichole leaned back in her chair, throwing the sample spoons at a Tony the Tiger cereal box over and over, waiting for someone to come in. For the past few days, it had been too cold for ice cream, and The Creamery was, as a result, completely vacant besides a few children every now and then. But today, it was warm for August, and the 4 o' clock rush was bound to hit soon.
Nichole had worked at The Creamery for as long as she lived in Portland, and knew every flavor on the menu, even learning the calorie count of each one. She worked as often as she came in, because the manager always needed help, and because of it, she was there any time she wasn't more preoccupied with something, or some one else.
Hearing the small, silver bell at the door ring, she tilted the chair back up and walked out to the counter. Seeing an old lady, she quickly served her and, after saying the little store anthem *Thanks for eating our creamy cream at The Creamery!* picked up the change she had left in the tip jar, even closer to killing herself of boredom than before. God did she wish someone or 'Les' would come in...
|
|
|
Post by Kyo on Oct 15, 2009 23:50:50 GMT -5
(Or 'Les' you say...? Well, what you ask for is what you get, Sparky.)
Lester dismounted his motorcycle in a very disfunctional manner, practically falling over before pulling his other leg over it. He teetered for a second, then catching his balance... Poorly. Lester was, as some would so eloquently say, hammered.
The way Lester had happened upon the Creamery in this state played out something like this: Lester, being the sophisticate that he is, pranced into a bar after his janitorial night shift at the Blue, and was there for, lets say... four or five hours, stumbled out into the street to veer through traffic trying to remember where his house was, and then looked up an saw the largest icecream ever. Ergo, he wanted some icecream too, because giants didn't deserve all of it. Thus, we find him tottering through the door of the very same icecream parlor that his on again off again friend with benefits worked.
Lester quickly reached for the counter, seeing as it was one of the things that could hold him up, and practically face-planted into the sneezeguard, directly over a type of ice cream called Princess Magic, a flavor popular with little girls between the ages of 5 and 11.
The man jerked up from glass, not really caring who he was talking to, and asked, in a kind of scared, but forceful voice, "I want some iceream," and took out his wallet, practically slamming it down on the countertop.
|
|
|
Post by Sparky on Oct 16, 2009 0:14:55 GMT -5
The second someone had walked through the door, Nichole could smell the pungent scent of Tequila and the uneven steps of a costumer seen quite often at the Creamery; The drinks like a fish, wasted off their ass drunk. Little did Nichole know however, that this one she might actually have to tolerate. (At least for the first few minutes or so...) Standing up from her stool, she finally saw the culprit of the disruption to her thoughts. Lester. Wasted. And with no shirt on. Nichole sighed. 'why is it always him?' "Lester," she said in a gentle voice "What kind of ice cream do you want? How about a blanket, Les. You look a little cold." Considering that he was shit-faced worse than Lindsay Lohan at a rehab clinic, she was slightly confused as to how he had managed to even ride his bike past the first block of what ever bar he had come from. Worried that another costumer would come in and see Lester in his condition, she was trying to hurry things along. 'Even if Lester is an idiot, I'll still need to sober him up, especially if I don't want him dead from a motorcycle accident." Nichole though angrily to herself waiting for Lester to speak. 'I guess I did get 'less'...'
|
|
|
Post by Kyo on Oct 16, 2009 0:33:58 GMT -5
"I want.... Some... Princess Magic... and your blanket." He said, looking ridiculously childish and repeating his same, lost tone. Lester was feeling pretty chilly, and after all, it was an icecream parlor, so it was bound to be cold... He reallly thought a blanket would help. seeing as a lost his shirt somewhere between there and a bar at a stoplight.
He then spotted something quite odd to spot when you're drunk, so he began sliding himself, since he was practically falling over to the other side of the icecream display, toward the very familiar looking pair of legs that were only just cut off by a pair of whitewashed daisy dukes, which, as he recalled, some lady had told him was part of the Creamery's 'charm'.
He propped himself up on his elbows, next to the sprinkles container on the ledge near the cash register, held his head up with both hands, and then told the upperhalf of that same lady, "inna cone," while pulling off an adorably alcoholic smile.
|
|
|
Post by Sparky on Oct 16, 2009 0:49:51 GMT -5
Smiling, Nichole slapped Lester as hard as she could across the face. "I'll go get you that blanket Les," Nichole said with as much gentleness and sweetness as before "just don't stare at me and my tits like that, okay?"
She went to the back room, and grabbed the blanket from the corner, and as an afterthought, some coffee from the employee brewer, trying to think of more ways to sober Les up. 'Damn cunt thinks he can stare at me like that.' she thought to herself. "Calm down Nicky, it's not his fault..." she said to no one in particular, before heading out to the storefront to see where Lester was.
Getting back, she saw Lester hadn't moved much. "Here's your blanket Les." Nichole said, giving him the blanket and coffee. She then took out a small waffle cone, and scooped some of the ultra-sugary, gives-you-a-cavity-from-looking-at-it, mixture of milk and diabetes onto the equally sugary holder. "Lester, do you want some sprinkles?" She asked, holding out the cone.
|
|