The Milky Way Diner: A Short Story

I hear the doorbell jingle as I add a scoop of chocolate fudge to this kid’s ice cream cone, causing me to poorly place the scoop and causing all three scoops to topple over. I mutter a cuss word under my breath and apologize to the chubby redhead standing in front of me looking slightly irritated. Trust me, he could wait five minutes for another ice cream cone. He’s had three already today. Chucky Stauph is a regular at my little rainbow shack in downtown Charleston.

The Milky Way Diner is a flamboyant diner-disco combo. People come from all over a two block radius to eat burgers and roller skate to annoying disco music at the same time. My job here is to serve the food, sell the skates, and clean up all the mess left over at the end of the day. Picking up food wrappers and wiping sweat off the walls is a disgusting
Brin, I must say, you’re getting a little soft. That’s what happens when you live with humans for too long,” the young man says as he casually strolls across the room.

“Soft? You don’t even know me. For all you know, you could’ve just pissed off an ax murderer. And second of all, my name isn’t Brin, it’s-- it’s none of your business, that’s what.” He lets out a small chuckle and picks a teddy bear off of a nearby table.

“Your name is Tera Walsh,” he says casually, as if we are having a generic conversation. “You live in Charleston, West Virginia with your brother and foster mother. I could go into personal details like where you shop and what you eat for lunch, but I wouldn’t want you to hit me again,” he says with a certain cockiness to his tone.

This is too much for me. I’m standing in a diner, wearing neon pink skinny jeans and a rainbow apron, listening to some guy tell me that he’s basically been stalking me.

“I have to go.” I rip off my apron and storm into the back of the diner. It’s twenty minutes before my swft is done, but I want to get away from this creep. “My brother is waiting for