1 The Good, The Bad and The Bloody

A waiter in a black cotton apron rushed past the grey granite counter with four beers atop a steel platter. He gently sets them down on a round wooden table where four hooligans are seated. He glances at their clothes and bling and inwardly thinks to himself how useless they are to society.

They, the rowdy bunch are being quite loud with their hollering and the occasional catcall at a passing woman. This unsettles the paying customers but they sip their caffeinated drinks in resolute silence, ignoring the sleazy looks of the four.

The waiter slicks back his blonde hair and politely asks,

"Will that be all, sirs?"

The four stopped their nuances and irritably glared at the waiter, who stayed calm.

"If you're done, fuck off."

A dark tanned dude with a scruffy beard said while flipping the bird at him.

The waiter politely bowed and quickly left, his face souring once he was back in the kitchen. The chubby well fed manager came into his view and the waiter immediately began ranting about the four.

The manager raised his sweaty hands in surrender and ushered the blonde waiter to calm down and he assured him that they would have their drinks and leave. The waiter opened his mouth to protest but stopped, sighed instead and got back to work.

The manager smiled slightly at him and went back to his cramped and messy office.

Back in the seating area, things were progressively getting worse. It was moving past the point of just catcalling and well into territory of physical harassment as they 'accidentally' grazed their arms against a woman's backside or 'accidentally' groped their sides. The women did nothing and continued on their way, some with tears in their eyes as they hurried to wipe their eyes, all the while the four nuisances kept their antics up.

One of them, dressed in a baggy purple jersey and jeans with a withered beanie atop his head decided that it would be really funny were he to 'accidentally' spill his drink on a woman passing by. He quickly shushed the rest of his mates and grinned slyly.

A woman dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt was walking up to the counter. She had earphones in her ears and her eyes were glued to her phone. As she walked by their table, the person in the jersey quickly stood up with his drink in hand and poured it all over her top. 

She audibly gasped and dropped her phone as her top was completely soaked, becoming translucent. In less than a couple of seconds, her purple bra and pale skin was visible and the hooligans pointed and jeered.

She went beet red in the face and crossed her arms across her chest, her eyes streaming at this point.

"What's up, baby girl? Here, lemme take care of you."

Saying that, the dude advanced towards her and she took rushed steps back. 

The blonde waiter saw everything from the counter and rushed inside. He grabbed his black leather jacket and glared at the manager who was also headed to the seating area.

Once there, the waiter rushed to the sobbing woman and draped his jacket over her and gently guided her towards the manager to lead inside.

For whatever reason, this was an act very offensive to them as they all angrily stood up threatening the waiter. One of them grabbed his collar and said,

"Who the fuck do you think you are, getting in my way?"

The waiter looked straight into his eyes and calmly spoke,

"Sir. Unhand me."

"Che. Look at this dude, all up and acting tough."

He spits loudly in the waiter's face.

"Listen, you cockroach. You are nothing. I punch you once and you're a dead man."

The manager comes back after calming down the woman and reasoning with her to not sue the shop. He looks at his waiter being manhandled and shouts out,

"Hey! You let him go, right this instant! The cops are on their way!"

The troublemakers look in his direction and begin to laugh, remarking about the worthless cops. The one in the purple jersey leaves the waiter's collar who steps back and grabs a tissue to wipe his face.

Meanwhile, the four spontaneously begin to push around and break tables and cups and glasses.

The rest of the customers cower in their seats. In one corner, an old man covers his wife underneath his chest and starts praying. In another, a group of girls sink to the floor screaming in distress at the sounds of furniture breaking.

All the while, the manager stares in disbelief and the troublemakers laugh loudly.

The very familiar sirens of the police made themselves heard and the four hooligans immediately began to leave rather hurriedly.

Over the megaphone, a cop urged the four to stop but they turned into a back alley and when the cops followed, they seemingly disappeared into thin air.

…..

"So none of them were taller than 6 feet, is that correct?"

"That's right, officer. One was wearing a purple jersey with a shiny gold chain around his neck and he was wearing a torn grey beanie on his head. Another of 'em was dressed in a dirty grey full sleeve and sported a grimy beard."

The officer nodded as he wrote down the information and passed it along to another officer.

The manager sat down tiredly in an unbroken chair and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. He sighed as he gazed around his quaint and cozy coffee shop being utterly ruined. For fuck's sake, they didn't even spare the ice machine on the counter! 

From the kitchen, the black apron waiter appeared with a large glass of ice water. He handed it to the manager who accepted it gingerly. Grabbing a chair, he sat down next to his manager and sat in resolute silence, looking at the trashed place.

After a long sigh, the manager spoke up.

"It's over, I suppose."

"It'll be fine, the insurance should cover the damages."

"Insurance won't cover lost customers. After this, I wouldn't be surprised if no one comes to the coffee shop anymore."

The waiter nodded slightly, in agreement. He looked around and saw a black haired person still seated at a table, calmly sipping his coffee. 

"Say uncle, what do you reckon he's doing?"

The manager looked at where he was pointing and asked before saying,

"Poor chap's most likely in shock. Ah heck, they spilled a drink all over him too. Go fetch a towel for him, will you?"

The waiter stood up and brought a towel from inside. He walked over to the man and lightly tapped on his shoulder. 

For an instant, their eyes locked and the waiter felt fear in his heart. His eyes widened and shivers ran up and down his spine. He reflexively took a step back and in the very next instant, the overwhelming feeling was completely gone.

"Yes?"

The young man said in a calm voice. The waiter took a deep breath and handed him the towel while saying,

"Here."

The young man chuckled and took the towel, muttering thanks. He began to clean his hair of the coffee and beer mixture and lightly dabbed his stained white shirt with it. Once he was done with it, he folded it neatly in a square and kept it on the table. Finishing his coffee, he took out a neat 20 from his wallet and gave it to the puzzled waiter. 

"Tip. For your heartwarming service. Thank you."

The waiter gingerly accepted and watched as the man left the coffee shop. Once his figure disappeared round the corner, the waiter pocketed the paper note and began to clean up the table, thinking about his future with or without the coffee shop.

…..

Two Weeks later

The blonde waiter sat lazily at the counter with his head resting on his hand as the news reporter kept babbling on the slightly cracked TV screen. Insurance didn't cover it.

He lazily drew with droplets of water on the counter top. 

The chubby manager sat inside, snoring in his chair.

The blonde waiter sighed and looked around at the now empty coffeeshop. They had new freshly made furniture put up and cleaned the place to the best of their abilities and yet, their rating had plummeted and no one came around.

His vision started getting blurry as tiredness filled him.

He then heard the familiar jingle of the news "BREAKING NEWS" section and became alert. His eyes fixed themselves on the TV screen as the anchor began to speak.

"We interrupt our usual program to bring you this live report just in. Police have just discovered the scene of a gruesome homicide on the outskirts of the Sewage Pump District. Not much information is available as of the moment but our sources claim that there are three victims who were brutally mutilated."

The waiter stood up with a jolt as goosebumps ran over his body.

"It is also believed that the three victims were possibly the perpetrators of violent arson at Uncle Poe's Cafe two weeks ago."

The waiter's breathing quickened as he waited for the news anchor to continue.

"We have a team headed right this instant towards the Coffee Shop in question and the scene of the crime. More on this, tonight at 7."

The familiar jingle sounded again and the waiter heard the sounds of tires screeching. Multiple white vans with different news agency logos printed on the side parked at the entrance.

The waiter rushed inside and burst into the manager's office, stirring him awake.

He looked at him and questioned him groggily. The waiter quickly glanced around and asked for the chalkboard.

The manager pointed to a corner of folders. The waiter dug it out and took a piece of chalk and hurriedly scribbled some words on it.

Once done, he took a good look at it, erased some words and wrote something else.

The manager tried to peek but the waiter wouldn't let him and then rushed back outside to the seating area.

Once he was past the doors, camera flashes went off and he raised his hands to cover his eyes. The hurried questions from the reporters began as they pushed many mics in his face.

He politely pushed them away and set up the chalkboard on the counter and pointed towards it. All cameras and the reporters focused on it and they read,

"All questions will be entertained after 1 cup of coffee by each and every 'paying' individual."

Some of them groaned while others hurriedly pulled out their wallets and purses and handed the money and shouted their orders.

The waiter politely noted them down and requested of them to sit down and patiently wait for their coffee. He went back inside and looked at the face of the shocked manager at the completely filled cafe.

"What- How?"

The waiter chuckled before replying,

"All publicity is good publicity. Now come here and help me out, everyone else went home."

"Huh?"

Saying that, they rushed into the kitchen and began preparing beverages for the news hungry reporters.

…..

A Month Later

Back in Uncle Poe's Cafe, business was booming. In fact, it was booming so much that they could get rid of every single alcoholic beverage from their menu and also hired a hobbyist pastry chef to make donuts, bagels and various 'heavenly' cookies, as she described it. The manager was skeptical at first but once he tasted them, he hired her on the spot at double the salary he had initially offered her, which she accepted.

The blonde waiter whistled while preparing coffees for the now filled cafe. Everyone was chattering and having a joyous time at the café.

A breathless figure rushed around the corner and burst into the café. All eyes were on his bloodied purple jersey with fists of cash, all covered in blood.

The manager entered the seating area and the purple jersey dude dropped to his knees and bowed his head to the floor in front of him, shaking throughout. He pleaded,

"I… I- I'm sorry. I'm very very sorry about my conduct at your- your esteemed establishment before. Ple-.. please forgive me and accept this penance."

Saying that he pushed the cash into the very confused manager's hand took shaky steps away from him.

The manager found his voice as he asked,

"What did you do to your friends?"

The bloodied man gave a yelp and said,

"Nothing. I didn't do it. I didn't do it, I didn't do it, it wasn't me! You gotta believe me!"

"Well who was it then?"

Turning to a whisper, he said,

"He-... He's always watching."

Repeating the same thing to himself, he looked around at the distasteful gazes of the customers. He rushed out the glass doors and walked disoriented into the road. He knelt to catch his breath and the loud honk of a barreling eight-wheeler was heard. The moment he turned his head to look at the truck, it smashed straight into him and the customers screamed in shock and ducked down. Some began to cry loudly and the waiter rushed out with the manager and chef in quick pursuit. Once out, they saw the ever so gruesome sight of a blood splatter, being dragged forty feet down the road with chunks of red flesh mixed in. The pastry chef yelped and turned around, covering her brown eyes. The manager saw the sight and immediately keeled over vomiting chunks. The waiter just stared at the sight before he grabbed his phone and punched in the emergency number and called for an ambulance.

The onlookers just stared on as the truck driver left the truck and sat on the side, his head in his hands.

The waiter walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder and reassured him it wasn't his fault and beckoned his weeping figure inside the café. 

Once inside, he looked around at the customers who had stood up and were walking out to check the scene, coffee cups in hand. He fixed his eyes at a table where a young man was seated silently, doing nothing but staring down at the folded newspaper on the table.

"Excuse me, I hope you won't mind, I'd like to seat this poor man here and get him a Coffee to calm him down, he just witnessed a horrible tragedy."

The young man looked up with his eyes and for a moment, there was a wide grin present on his face. Shivers went down the waiter's spine as he recognised him from the time when the café was busted up badly.

"Please, by all means."

"Wo- would you like something too? It's on the house."

The black haired man looked straight into the waiter's eyes and stared for a long time.

"....A latte."

Saying that, he beckoned the crying truck driver to sit down and picked up his newspaper. The waiter shook off his feelings and went back to the kitchen, the manager being helped to the bathroom by the pastry chef.

He sighed and began preparing the latte for the customer.