Nothing good in the paper. Nothing good on the telly. Nothing good from the people that don’t even look up to acknowledge him. These young shits have no respect for their elders! Why, when he was their age, even though they are physically adult, he still granted his seat to the matrons of his time, and listened intently to the wisdom of the fathers around him. There was none of this Empowered Women bullshit, and this Racial Equality bullshit, and America was the greatest country in the world and everyone wanted to come here because America is the greatest country in the world!
“Another coffee, Sir?” He looked up grudgingly at the waitress. He noticed her pot was only a quarter full. It was all he could do to keep from launching into a verbal educational moment right then and there.
“Do you think I’m addled? That I can’t see because I’m twice your age? That’s an old pot and you’re trying to shove it off on me! Make me a fresh pot! Don’t serve me your leftovers! I should talk to the manager about this! This is horrible treatment! Don’t you know what I’ve gone through in my life!”
The waitress didn’t wait to hear the rest of his diatribe. She smiled her best smile, straightened up, offered the next person more coffee, and was accepted. He was a regular at the diner. Mister Walter P. Rupert, thank you very fucking much. He would bait you into asking what his middle initial stood for, and then berate the person for asking such a personal and impertinent question. He was one of the few patrons that demanded a particular waitress to serve him, and got his way. The requested waitress didn’t mind. She often received substantially more tips from other patrons in sympathy for having to deal with the crotchety old coot.
He watched her closely, still muttering, as she successfully poured out her carafe, rinsed it out, and put on the fixings for a new pot of coffee. Of course, it wasn’t to his complete satisfaction. But he was in public, and had to deal with these young tech-heads that were always in a rush. Eyes focused on teeny screens smaller than his pension, no one ever looked up at him. No one noticed he was a pillar of their crumbling community. Vain little shits. No wonder America has got to the cesspool. No one pays attention to their respected elders any more. Why, when he was their age…
“Excuse me. May I get a coffee to go? I’m in a rush, I’ll pay cash, and I don’t need the change!” Younger than Mister Walter P. Rupert, and one tenth the proper gentleman, a very nervous black haired man stood at the counter invading Mister Walter P. Rupert’s personal space. The man stood two chairs away, but this was his counter, and no one is supposed to sit at his counter while he is there, because he has lived through a war and several skirmishes and saw this great country when it was still great and before it was undermined by compassion towards the…
He looked up at the man’s face.
Mister Walter P. Rupert’s eye twitched. His face danced a contorted array of indignance and outrage. He forced himself to remain calm. “Things have changed.”, he told himself. “This country has lost its way.”, he told himself. “He must remain the example of the better man.”, he told himself.
“Sure thing, Sweetie!” The waitress came towards them, grabbing a disposable cup as she did. Mister Walter P. Rupert’s face drained as he watched the waitress grab the just finished carafe of coffee. She’s going to pour him the first cup. She’s going to pour him the first cup? This bitch is going to pour this chink the first cup! MY CUP! His thoughts raced faster than his reactions, and before he could translate his outrage into sound or movement, the waitress did just that.
She poured the first cup of fresh coffee into a traveler’s cup, capped it, and handed it to the waiting man. The requester held an armful of folders and papers, he was fumbling for his wallet, but reluctant to place the bundle on the table to free his hands.
“Oh, Honey, don’t worry about it. You look like you have more on your mind than just coffee. Go on, get yourself together and go. My treat. Just pay someone else in kindness when the choice is up to you.”
Another man came in the entrance and saw the overburdened man still at the counter. “Wu! What the hell! Come on!”
At the sound of the man’s name confirming his Oriental ethnicity, Mister Walter P. Rupert finally found his voice and his musculature.
“Wu? WU! You fucking chink! That’s it!” He stood to his feet and began gesturing wildly with his cane. “You and your chinky-chanky people have bled this country dry and now you are entering my personal space to take what is mine!” Wu stumbled back, away from the door, holding the coffee in one hand and the papers in the other. His associate was yelling at him to dodge the cantankerous git and quickly leave.
“Yes! Get out! Get out of my country! Get out of my sight! BUT LEAVE MY COFFEE BEHIND YOU FILTHY GODLESS CHINK!” He swung his cane faster than all expected and struck the hand holding the coffee. Wu’s priority was preserving the papers so he swung the overburdened arm backwards, keeping the papers free from the arc of flying liquid.
But Mister Walter P. Rupert wasn’t done teaching this lesser thing a lesson. As fast as he brought the cane down, he brought it back up and struck the overburdened arm. The papers flew behind Wu in one direction as Wu himself fell in a different direction.
As the papers settled, only now did those inside hear the sirens just outside the door. Wu’s associate had long fled. Police poured into the diner. One immediately held the elderly gentleman back. “Sir, back away from him. This is a dangerous man and he may have a firearm!”
“I whipped a dozen of them for breakfast in the war! I’ll whip this one for lunch! Release me!”
The sight of a badge in a leather holder finally calmed him down. Wu was picked up off the floor by two police officers and placed in handcuffs. To the surprised of bystanders, the elderly gentleman was congratulated by the law enforcement officers that had entered. “You stopped him. Just in time. Your country is grateful for your efforts, Sir.”
Mister Walter P. Rupert ceased muttering about his trampled rights and looked plainly at the suited speaker. “Pardon?”
“This man is a spy, sent to smuggle important information out of the country. He took the bait left for him, but escaped us before we could capture him. You managed to delay him just long enough for us to catch up to him and his associate.”
Other suited men gathered up the papers and noted they were out of order. Quickly, the stack was properly arranged. “She was right to have us leave one page out of the stack. I don’t want to consider what could have happened if they had all of her while in that condition!”
“I am always ready to serve my country! No godless heathen is going to take any more of my country’s assets!” He thought a bit and looked at the stack of papers. “Her?”
The badged and suited man moved the stack of recovered papers from the table and lain them on the floor. Removing a sheet of paper from his coat pocket, he unfolded it and placed it face down on the stack. The papers shimmied briefly, then morphed into a stain of darkness on the floor. The stain suddenly grew upwards and solidified into a humanoid shape. I opened my eyes and shuddered, bringing myself back into unity and solidity.
“I have a headache.” I looked around. “So. Did it work?”
The badged and suited man stepped up to me with a bottle of water. “Welcome back, Weaver. And yes. It worked. We have the spy and his associate. How do you feel?” The elderly gentleman looked me up and down in surprise at first. Then in barely restrained anger.
I took the water and chugged it. “My memory is scrambled a bit. I don’t remember a damn thing. I feel confused. Like an Off-By-One error.” I looked around. “Oh hey, a diner. Maybe some coffee will help.”
“AHHHHH!” Mister Walter P. Rupert has had enough of this day. “My country’s secrets were held by a negress? Enough! I can’t take any more of this! I’m going home!” He turned and stormed out of the diner, muttering profusely about the deterioration of his once formerly great country.
“What the hell did I miss, Director?” I stumbled to the badged and suited man and leaned on his arm.
“I’ll debrief you on the way back to headquarters.”
And he did.
~~~
When I first woke up, I thought this an amusing side story. Until I sounded out the names of the people involved. I think I overdid some things last night.