Subject: The All-Nite XXX Silver Diner Zombie Waitresses from Takoma Park

Date: 23 Jan 1999 00:00:00 GMT

From: nospamum@radix.net (Mumthra)

Organization: RadixNet Internet Services

Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free

References: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11

 

 

 

 

On Thu, 21 Jan 1999 21:42:17 -0500, "König Preuße, GmbH"

<bbombere@erols.com> wrote:

 

:The All-Nite XXX Silver Diner Zombie Waitresses from Takoma Park

 

I don't know WHY that one tickles me so. Probably the Takoma Park

part. An underfed non-nookular semi-lesbian chick person would make an

interesting waitress. Named MADISON. Yeah. Lillian "Madison" Baffuto.

 

 

So it was Friday night and Madison was on time, but she spent twenty

minutes in the bathroom after she arrived trying to get all the clay

out from under her nails. There had been complaints.

 

She was almost looking forward to having the band there later,

specifically she was looking forward to being leered at by that

guitarist with the big hands. She knew that she was expected to try

to find something other than dead end, beer bottle romance.

 

Unconcerned, she always said, "I just have this THING for drug

addicts."

 

The customers at the Silver Zombie Diner were pretty patient as a

rule. They didn't want prompt food or drink, or if they did, they came

to expect something less in the way of service and something more in

the way of atmosphere. They might ask for a Miller Lite and then have

ample time to revel in the sticky decor and filmy companionship before

it arrived, if it ever did.

 

Madison was possibly a perfect fit. She rarely moved in a straight

line, and generally would not employ the Egyptian posture to fit

through a dense crowd when other waitresses would. Faced with a crush

of flesh, Madison would simply stand and slowly blink at them until

they were disconcerted enough to part and let her pass.

 

Relatively certain that tip size was a random distribution, like

height, she didn't make any effort to pretend not to eavesdrop on her

customers, and was often further slowed in her progress by arguments

that she started.

 

One night, a bespectacled and overly serious young man was pouring out

some borrowed philosophy to his artificially enraptured date and

unwisely mentioned "nukes."

 

"Nukes!" shouted Madison. "No Nukes!" Her fist saluted to the ceiling

and sent his Zombie Burger 'n' Cole Slaw on the same trajectory. The

flying food did not fall, but rather disappeared into an overhead

dungeon of wires and pipes and THINGS that were better not noticed.

 

"I was just saying that I think Nuclear Power could be a better--"

 

"Never Nukes!" rejoined Madison stepping closer to the table. "No More

Atypical Atomic Babies!"

 

"I don't see what business it is of--" he eyed his date, uncertain

whether he should prolong this frothy server encounter or not. "This

is America," he finished a bit meekly.

 

"BABY KILLER!" she argued.

 

Madison didn't get a tip from HIM, but the date left her a five dollar

bill and a phone number under the ashtray. Hence, her random tip

theory remained and her semi-lesbian dawn began.

 

Tonight was lesbian low tide, however, and even the band's BONGO

DRUMMER--who was wholly responsible for their name being the Fluted

Rips--even HE looked somehow appealing to her. She watched him smoking

at the bar long enough for him to catch her at it, then she really

stared.

 

The drummer leaned over to the bartender, "That's the vegetable girl,

right? The one that wants to make a SALAD out of them afterward?"

 

The bartender may have nodded before he resigned from the subject. It

wasn't clear. The drummer didn't notice anyway. He was lost in

something similar to thought.

 

Madison stopped staring, having achieved her intended effect. Worthy

of it or not, the drummer would have her on his mind and possibly in

his rhythms.

 

None of her obvious talents kept her employed at the Silver Zombie

Diner, however. She was still there not because of her occasional

verbal brawling or her telephrenetic stare, but because the silver

zombies liked her looks and liked the feel of her wake.

 

Besides, they didn't have any other waitresses that could be paid in

eggplant.

 

This was probably from Mumthra. Ordinarily non-contagious.

"So you'd have to take it on faith that it was in fact

a tentacle and not, say, a potato." --Jahweh Dave Lynch

 

 

 

 

Subject: Re: The All-Nite XXX Silver Diner Zombie Waitresses from Takoma Park

Date: 22 Jan 1999 00:00:00 GMT

From: "König Preuße, GmbH" <bbombere@erols.com>

Organization: Lou Minotti & the Clamsauce Enema Band

Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free

References: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 12

 

 

Mumthra wrote:

 

> On Thu, 21 Jan 1999 21:42:17 -0500, "König Preuße, GmbH"

> <bbombere@erols.com> wrote:

>

> :The All-Nite XXX Silver Diner Zombie Waitresses from Takoma Park

>

> I don't know WHY that one tickles me so. Probably the Takoma Park

> part. An underfed non-nookular semi-lesbian chick person would make an

> interesting waitress. Named MADISON. Yeah. Lillian "Madison" Baffuto.

>

 

Good one! I liked the "No Noooks" of the North Takoma tie-in.

Heh, heh...

 

I was so worried that I was preparing to groan in advance

if it was going to be something like:

 

Besides her five tables, Madison had half the counter to tend,

the counter tended to be mostly just coffee drinkers that wanted

a lot of refills, and only the exceptionally daring amongst them

would venture to order a slice of pie from the mirror-backed

refrigerated stainless steel display case. Some rare times, she

would find the occasional dollar, and on even rarer occasions

find a dollar and a penny, a secret signal of good service and

thanks that was a tradition going back to the first Silver Zombie

Waitress crew.

 

Madison was fixated fer sure on the guitar man with the big hands,

she could feel his calloused finger tips tweaking her already stiffening

nipples under her dacron uniform. She tried to refocus her eyes,

which had filled with a pastel blur of lust, and glanced at her watch.

She had a 15 minute cigarette break coming up, and caught the guitar man's

eye, signalling to him to meet her in the Green Room. They called it the

Green Room because that's where all the vegetables were stored.

Guitar Man caught her meaning and signaled his eagerness by winking

and scratching his crotch.

 

Madison strolled causally into the Green Room, lit a Benson&Hedges,

and leaned back against the lettuce crates. Before she had finished a third

of her cigarette, Guitar Man entered, and embraced her, one hand on her neck

guiding her lips to his, and the other grasping Madison's rather spare behind.

Guitar Man was on a hair trigger that night, because before Madison's

could even unzip him to free his manhood for her amusement, he let fly

with a load of buttermilk that made Madison decide NOT to finish unzipping

him. She had her street clothes in her locker, and since they were about

the same size, jeans-wise, she told Guitar Man to change into her jeans

before he came back out front in the Silver Zombie Diner.

 

Madison washed his jeans in the mop sink and hung them to dry

beside the furnace where they would dry in no time at all. When

she returned to her shift, after her normal half-hour fifteen minute break,

Guitar Man was gone! At the end of her shift, she retrieved his jeans

from the furnace room where the were dry. She folded the jeans,

wistfully thinking that Guitar Man would return for them, and she

put the folded pair of jeans under her end of the counter. After

several weeks of waiting for Guitar Man's return, the jeans had

found a permanent place, and became known to the crew at the

Silver Zombie Diner as, "The Britches of Madison's Counter."