1 Chinese Olives

Hullo. Welcome to Chinese Olives. I am going to be your waitress today."

"These seats are REALLY comfortable. Where was it imported from, Waitress?" She shrugs.

"That's above my paygrade. I just work here, man. Are you ready to order, ma'am?"

I glance at the unrealistically-sized menu that lay in front of me. I told the lady, "Give me a second more, please." She nodded and strutted off to serve some other table, or something.

After wondering what sounds good-seafood sounds wonderous to me, but the double-cheesburger sounded more appealing to my wallet... I rang the bell, signalling her back over when she's free. She came over awfully quick, being that she was on the completely opposite side of the room, as if she was already making her way over here...?

I went to go tell her I had decided to surprise and treat myself to some Chicken Parmesean instead, but then she shushed me with a finger to her lips. She hinted downwards. I looked down and saw a fortune cookie in her hand under the table. Confused, I took it... And she just walked away, like I hadn't just signalled her over.

I decided I am not going to go to anymore Chinese restaurants with no reviews from Google Suggestions. The place gave me.. foreboding vibes, and that is never a good sign.

Well, at least I got a free cookie out of this, right? I tried to pop the bag. Instead, the cookie crumbled within the plastic. Must be really old... even expired.. Maybe that is why it was free.. I gave up and opened it the regular way. Don't want to ruin it EVEN MORE...

I know these things are one hundred percent unreliable, and are just for us gullible and curious Americans who like fun, and learning about ourselves and all that, but I always only liked the cookie... which I crushed into a billion tiny pieces. I had no choice but to throw it away-after I read "my fortune," of course.

It's gross and sticky. I did not want to touch it anymore, but I already started unwrapping my paper future that awaited me.

"Your life is in danger. Say nothing to anyone. You must leave the city immediately and never return. Repeat: say nothing."

Well, you're late.. I just read the whole thing out loud.. ...

I rang the bell again. She came back with an unsettlingly grim expression on her face.

"Um, hi. Who is this from.... And can I order now, or...?"

After a brief period of awkward silence, but felt like hours to me, she gave me one of those sad smiles you'd expect from an understanding puppy who smiles at their crying owner.

I suddenly lost my appetite. I just want to get outta here now.. I don't like this. I don't like her. I don't like the cookie. And I don't like the fact I couldn't even order my Chicken Parmesean when I wanted it. Please just answer the question, charge me for the stupid cookie, Whatever, just get me out of here, woman!

Of course, I'd never tell her all of this. I just smiled back, with fear stuck in my eyes-I could feel it painting me. I repeated the question, as pleasant as I could muster.

"Who is this from?"

Nothing.

"Can I just pay for the cookie, please?"

Nothing. Again.

She just stood there. I imagine a crazy-realistically-painted statue, now that I think back on it. I started to scoot my butt slowly toward the end of the booth.

"Well... I think I'm just gonna.. Head out... So..."

This time, I received a response.

As if she aged years in just those few moments, she struggled to bend over slowly, and was barely able to voice:

"Careful out there, buddy. And remember what it said.. You're welcome. And...-"

I didn't hear all of what she said; I was too busy mentally listing off all the reasons why we are NOT buddies. This gave me an actual, and physical shiver down my very spine.

Did she give me the cookie..? I mean she did give it to me, but did she give it to me? Actually, I don't want to know. I just never want anything Chinese or Olive-related again.

With that, I ran. I ran into many people I did see, but didn't care to avoid them. I knew they'd move..or they'd fall. Either way, I got out. I met up with the road opposite the parking lot, but then remembered my purse in the booth. I looked up to the sky and gave a very exaggerated and annoyed sigh. I was forced back into Chinese Olives.

I ducked my head down as I entered, slightly embarrassed to make such a big scene, and had to go through it once more, with everyone glaring at me admonishingly. Luckily, my booth was close to the front. It was close enough so that I could see my booth over the waiting-to-be-seated crowd.

I let out another sigh. But this one wasn't of frustration, but of tiredness and just being done with today. My purse wasn't there. It's not possible that I was looking at the wrong booth. I had the first one with a window view on the right side. I looked at the booths on the right. No abandoned purses in sight.

I "Excuse me"-d my way to the front impatiently. A bunch of people started to rant at me about how they've been waiting for a full 15 minutes, and I'm not better than anyone else, and how unladylike it was to have no manners like that, and blah blah blah as I passed them. My silence and ignoring them only upset them more, which led to them punching me straight in the jaw.

I fell to the floor, but the hit wasn't hard enough to leave a bruise, or knock me unconscious. Still, it certainly didn't feel good. I closed my eyes and exhaled my frustration out. It's not worth it. Not today. Leave it to karma to get her back. Oooh okay. You're okay. Just ask for the purse and you can be done with it all forever.

Because I wasn't just going to let her do that without letting her know that she pissed me off, I flipped out the bird behind me and shot one of the dirtiest looks I had. Be the bigger man, Avery. Be the bigger man. It was inappropriate of her, but you gotta be the bigger person here. It's okay. Just get the darned .... Yeah okay. Here we go.

"Excuse me sir, hostess, everyone- Anybody move a purse? Black, faux-leather, smaller than most purses? I got my ID in it- don't worry. I'm not trying to mug anybody. Just.. I need it. I'll get out of the way. Just... anybody? A smaller black faux-leather purse? Yes? No? I just came in here not even 5 minutes ago."

I must have been speaking Swedish, because all I got was confused silence and freaked-out stares. Nobody bothered to move and look for it. Nobody bothered to move at all.

"Seriously? Seriously? You're not even going to look around? It was in that booth right there," I pointed to the first booth with the window view on the right side. " C'mon I was just here! I really don't have time for this." Of course, I did. I was fired two weeks ago, adn haven't gotten a job since, but they didn't know that. My only plans were to nap and forget all of today.

The host waddled over to me. In my head, I wondered if his leg was artificial or something. It'd explain why his balance was so awful. Of course, that wasn't very nice.

"If you were just here, what'd you order.. Ma'am?" His voice was very high, as if he hadn't hit puberty until ten years from now. It's still kind of intimidating, in an odd way.

I gulped a chunk of saliva and air down my esophagus, anxiously.

"W-well. Ac-Actually, I didn't order an-anything. I g-got an ex-expired fortune c-cookie."

At this, he had to laugh, out loud.

"I- I-..I know how it sounds. But there was this lady who served me and the-"

I never got to finish my sentence, because, speak of the devil, my horrible ex-waitress shows up, with the purse in her gripped left hand.

"Here," her srill-hoarse voice sounded. "Take it. But jusr remember..." I looked up from her hand to her face, expecting her to finish her sentence, but she didn't. I half-yanked it from her, muttered a reluctant "thanks," and I was out. Finally! I can go home!

I never think before I do, and I was so excited to get back to m

My amazing bed, I didn't bother to LOOK in my purse, make sure there were still things where they're supposed to be. No, instead I looked at 5:30, after waking up from a dream I no longer remember.

The purse was almost empty. I already knew the answer, but I asked myself anyway: How did I not feel how much lighter it felt when I brought it here, two hours ago? All of my money was gone. My ID was gone. My lipstick, chapstick, breathmints, coupons for my "lady-stuff," I called it, and a single piece of paper, that's all that was still there. 'Course. Leave the cheap and replaceable.

I took out the paper, curious. I never have paper in my purse. That's how you lose and forget them.

"Remember the cookie. You have three hours- I'm feeling generous. But not very patient. For heaven's sake, somebody catch me before I kill again. I cannot control myself."

I gasped loud enough for my neighbor in the apartment complex to bang on the wall and tell me to shut up so they can sleep, and hard enough for me to turn to a huge coughing fit. The Lipstick Killer. That means..... I didn't want to think about what it meant. I already knew. But I didn't want to.

What do I do? What am I supposed to do? Run, obviously-YOU IDIOT. LISTEN TO THE PSYCHOPATH, AVERY! SAVE YOUR D*MN LIFE, CUZ NO ONE ELSE WILL. NO ONE ELSE CAN!!.

The screaming in my head hurts. My blood was pounding in my throat, blocking my windpipe. I couldn't. But then I realized: How did the lady know what the cookie said? She must have made the cookie. The Lipstick Killer is a male. It's just a cruel joke. A cruel, sadistic, and #@!&*^$- up joke on me. HAHAHA, SOOOOHOH SO FUNNY! THANKS, Fiona!.... Wait, I remembered her name! I can report her! How'd I remember her name, though? Well, that's not important, because I can throw her creepy #%& in jail! HAHAHAHA!

I practically face planted into my carpeted floor, scrambling for my purse.

I opened it aggressively, I thought I'd ruin the fabric-I did tear the lining on the zipper. I was unpleasantly surprised to remember: there's no longer a phone in it.

Knew I should have listened to Marcus when he told me I need to get a second phone, if I'm just going to keep my (outdated flip phone) in my purse. Why didn't I listen? ...OH right, because he stole my promotion.

The panic came back for a visit, a more.. Permanent visit. WhatamIgonnadonow, oh WhatamIgonnado whatamIgonnadonow. Can'tcallanyoneandnobodywillbelieve

anywayifIcould... WhatamIgonnadonow? Whatifitwasnother? WhatifTheLipstickKiler reallysentit? I'm screwedandgonna die. It'soverit'soverit'sover. I'moverI'mdoneI'mdead. I'm dead. I'm...

The first thing I saw was a brown blob I assumed was the door. It was open. I never, ever, ever, leave it open. Did I forget? No. Don't even think that. You know you didn't. Don't screw with your own head now. Well, why was it open then?

I eventually managed to pull myself up to my feet. It hurt to even try. My head was a quarter that was glued to the floor.

I fell back down, in a fetal position, face-down on the warm rug, as the thundering door slammed and fell off its hinges.

"Tick Tock, No More Clock. Shoulda just ran out, Now don't shout," the man behind me whispered.

My body shook with every singing syllable. I let out a few whimpers. I tried to plea for help but I forgot how to scream. You know, the body will shut down if the stress or pain gets too unbearable. This thought did not comfort me one bit.

All I could do was shiver and tremble. I went to roll over so I could see the man, but then I decided I shouldn't dare move. I dunno if I could stand to look at him anyhow.

"What's wrong, cupcake? Don't like visitors? Donchu worry, I'm not gonna kill you just yet.... We haven't even been properly introduced. Please, forgive my poor manners. I am-well you already know who I am. You covered the story on CNNCNN when I framed the Israelis that killed Saddam Hussein. Yea, that's right, sweetheart. You're Avery Wells, and you interviewed me as one of the "poor innocent wittle victims that the bad man, Hussein, traumatized. Boohoo hoo."

Eventually, I found my voice, but it wasn't audible. All you could hear was the rhythm and breaks of words coming out as breath. Puh..ease... Don.. oo hiss... puh.....puh..ease....I don...wha i id.... but .... I i im... sorr.. Soor...sor..-"

He silenced me with a caressing finger to my lips. I wanted to bite him then and there, but I couldn't gather up the strength, nor courage, to bring myself to do it.

"ShhhhShhhhShhh... Don't waste your voice.. It's okay. I ain't gonna kill you yet..."

I shivered even more, after hearing that. He started petting my hazelnut hair. Stroking each fine tip that made contact with his soft fingertips. Why does a serial killer need hand lotion when he gets messy anyhow? I thought in my head.

The next thing I hear is a metronome of monotonous beeping. Just a flat beeep. Beeep. Beeep. There is no more than a three-second gap between them. I must be in a hospital. Great. I haven't opened my eyes just yet. It's too painful even to lift my eyes. So, I just listen to the beeping, and the doors opening and closing.

Just like in your apartment-doors opening and closing like that.

Eventually a door I assume is to my room, because it's so close, opens. A man comes in, I can tell by his voice, behind that muffling face mask he has to wear. Don't want to give him anything.. Even though you have nothing to give... Except a crazy bedtime story.

"Hullo, Ms... Ah Ms. Avery," he says after flipping pages on his clipboard.

"I'm sure you're very tired, but I'm gonna need you to be up just for a little questioning. Is that okay?"

My throat hurt, so I didn't say anything. Until I heard a drawer open next to my left. I open my eyes ever so slightly. This catches his attention.

"Oh, you're up. 'Morning sunshine. How are we feeling today?"

Being that I'm in a hospital, had the scare of my life-literally, and I should be dead right now, I'd say I'm peachy. Instead of saying that aloud, I just groaned with pain and exhaustion.

"I bet," the man chuckled. "Well, after looking at your records," spoken in between clicks of a mouse computer, "I can see you swallowed some metal breathmint box after falling down the stairs. Not very fun, sounds like."

I didn't have the oomf in me to tell him 'none of that happened. I am on the bottom floor of the apartment complex, and so there were no stairs. And why would I have swallowed a box of breathmints? I keep them in my purse. And I'm a victim of theft, and death threats. And trauma. And bad restaurant service. And I'm not crazy-you have got to believe me PLEASE!" So, again, I just groaned.

"Well, we already did the surgery, and got the lipstick out. We had to throw it in the trash - trust me, you don't want it back. You're lucky your boyfriend showed up in time and brought you here."

I gave him a confused puppy look, with my head tilted to the side and everything.

"Was he your brother, then? You two don't look alike. And I know he knows you by the way he watched you being rolled in here on one of our mobile stretchers. Very caring, that man. He probably saved your life you know."

I did not move my head at all from the puppy position.

"Would you like to see him? I'll go and get him. But he can't stay too long. Have to run some tests-you know how it goes with hospitals."

I did not. Other than in birth, I've never been to an actual hospital, but I didn't tell him this. Instead I gathered all of my focus on working to sit up in the bed. When my next thought hit me, I slid further down into the bed, almost all the way off.

What is ...he brought me here? What if this is where he is going to kill me?

After that, I didn't care how hurt I was. If I was right, I'm going to get A LOT more hurt, if I stay. But I won't-stay that is.

The doctor man comes back, with a finely dressed man, with messy fringey hair.

"I'll leave you two alone for a minute."

No. Please don't. Please come back. It's not safe. Keep the door open. Please..?

"So, miss me? I was very, very worried about you. Aves."

I don't want to talk, so I just stuck my tongue out at him.

They won't let him hurt me... They'll hear if he does. The walls are only so thick...right?

"Well, my little princess. You've got a nice comfy bed, pillow, blankets," he looks over at the table next to the bed, "Oh, look they even brought a Jell-O cup for you. How thoughtful. They've taken great care of you, but now I'm afraid I'm going to be taking over your treatment, okay, Aves?"

"D-Do-Dont-t cal-ca-call m-me tha-that.... &%^hole."

He took out a knife..and lipstick.

"Well, that's certainly not a way to talk to your new nurse... I don't think so. Now this may hurt. Unfortunately, we're out of narcotics..." He stops himself to laugh a long hiss-whispered laugh.

"Hope you aren't sensitive... Now don't scream."

I screamed anyway. But no doctors were coming in. Nobody was even around. My REAL doctor wasn't even there. The knife made contact with my face and...

I coughed up fuzz. Why is there fuzz? Why is it blue? I then started almost hyperventilating. I then only saw dark, only heard heavy breathing.

I didn't realize what had just happened, until I felt the floor. Hospitals don't have blue carpeted flooring. Not any that I know of. I'm home.

I drop back on the floor with all my weight coming out of me. It was just a dream...or a nightmare... Doesn't matter, it's over. I'm home. And I'm safe. And alive. Thank You, Lord Jesus Christ.

*** ***

After my regular yoga, I am relaxed. I glance at the clock on the rose wall.

2:30 PM. Time for lunch. I unlock the new cell-phone I got from T-Mobile.

"Hey, Siri," I ask. "What sounds good for lunch?"

After taking in what I said, and applying it to the the Web-Crazy what technology can do... Why didn't I listen to Marcus earlier? I am definitely getting rid of my flip phone - my response is this:

"I looked up restaurants that are serving lunch. Here are the most popular ones today:" It displayed pictures of several eating establishments. The first one made me drop my phone. It read: Chinese Olives Family Restaurant.