Realistic or Modern the high road | closed with welcome2hale.

[goodbyeskyharbor]

Arthur Bertram Huffington IV was having the absolute worst day of his life.

No, he had not lost a loved one. No, he had not gotten caught up in a natural disaster or accident. He had not received awful news regarding his health or that of a loved one, or any other terrible occurrence one could think of. The list of misfortune never seemed to end, but none of those genuine things were the cause of his misery at all.

He had been... cut off.

Sure, he had gone a bit too far sometimes, but was filling the family's pool with a generous helping of the finest from their wine cellar that bad? He had to throw a better party than Edward. Everyone liked Edward, and he had no idea why. But the wine in the pool had done little for him at all. If anything, it had made him a laughing stock when his parents came home and told him enough was enough. He had squandered every opportunity he had been given. He had no care for his things. He was dreadful with his money. He had to appreciate what he had and now, he had nothing. Well, he had a car, a small suitcase, a little bit of money and a map, but compared to the opulence of his upbringing, it felt like nothing.

And now? The car had broken down.

At least the car had been nice enough to break down in front of a diner. He would have preferred a finer establishment, but it would do in a pinch. He settled into a booth and scanned the menu, trying to decide what upset him the least, which was a tall order. Everything upset him at the moment! This all just wasn't fair, and it wouldn't do.

In the end, he orded a grilled chicken burger and an ice water. It would do, for now. In the meantime, while he waited for his food to come, his eyes scanned the diner. He looked miserable. Most of it was genuine, but it was also a ploy. He hoped if he looked pathetic enough, someone would take pity on him and help him.

It had always worked in the past, after all.

welcome2hale

 

[welcome2hale]

Lunch was Christopher's favorite time of day. His coworkers thought he was stupid for it, but it made perfect sense to him. Mornings sucked, because he had to get up early and get to work. The afternoons sucked because that tended to be the garage's rush hour, when other people were getting off work. Evenings sucked worse because he went home to his empty apartment, sat at the empty two-person table, and ate a meal for two all by himself. He tended to be the last one to leave the garage and the first one in just so he wouldn't have to linger in his lonely home. It was the same, Monday through Saturday, a constant loop of the same old, same old. The only thing to break up the monotony was Sunday dinners with his parents. What an exciting life he led, surrounded by people he'd known his whole life, in the same small town he'd been in his whole life, facing the same problems as always. It was enough to drive anyone crazy.

But until he had a solution, he had lunchtime. His coworkers would try to join him, or try to convince him to go out with them instead, but he always refused. The diner was the only place he went for lunch, since he seemed to be so good at routine.

The bell jingled when he walked in, and he took his spot at the counter. The waitress didn't even need to take his order anymore, and had the glass of strawberry lemonade in front of him before he could even get his oily windbreaker off. There was already a straw stuck in, and he tugged the top of the wrapper off. Diet soda and beer were the beverages of choice at the garage, neither of which he had a particular taste for. Christopher looked around the diner as he drained the first half of his glass, subconsciously making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be today. The fancy white collars were at their booth in the corner, other lunch-break goers scattered at the other tables. His counter was shared by Mr. Williams, as always. Christopher seemed to share a lot of habits with the old man.

When he turned to the other side of the diner, he had to do a double take. The diner had visitors from out of town, of course. They were located next to a semi-major highway. But he so rarely saw a stranger who was just so..well..odd looking. Looking so out of place, looking so pathetic. The look on his face was almost comical, given his outfit. If Christopher had been a more social man, he would've called across the diner to ask the stranger where he was from. If Christopher had been a friendlier man, he would've asked the stranger if he was okay as he passed by. But as it so happened, Christopher was none of those things. He was merely curious. Looking for something to break up the routine and give him a little excitement. And sometimes that meant annoying someone he'd never met before, and would likely never see again.

"So what's wrong with you?" he asked as he slid into the booth across the table from the man.

 

[goodbyeskyharbor]

Arthur continued to put on his poor, miserable soul act. He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on his palm. He let out a sigh for good measure. What was going on? This always worked... and quickly at that! He was starting to wonder if his food would come before any sort of assistance. Sure, it hadn't been that long since he ordered, but he didn't think that was any excuse. It wasn't like preparation of any five star cuisine was going on here. If his friends saw him here, they would be utterly disgusted. He hoped they hadn't heard about the humilating task he'd been set. He couldn't even call them. His parents had given him a basic flip phone to see him through the journey. He'd never bothered to memorise their numbers. Like essentially everything in his life, Arthur simply figured there'd be someone else to do that for him.

A shadow passed in the corner of his eye, and Arthur expected it to simply be the waitress. When someone sat in the seat opposite him, his eyes widened in surprise, and he sat up straight. It took everything in him to supress a grin. Ah, it had worked! Finally, the nightmare was to be over. After he explained his sad tale, the stranger would certainly have to take pity on him.

"I thought someone would never ask," Arthur said with a sigh. At that moment, the waitress delivered his ice water. He paused to take a sip, and grimaced. It was nowhere near cold enough, but he couldn't fuss. Unlike usual, he did not have a thermometer with him to measure just how cold the water was so he could back up his complaining.

Oh, how far he had fallen.

"You see, my parents... they have essentially... abandoned me," Arthur said, pausing every now and then for effect. He sipped his water, and conceded it wasn't that bad. "They've dumped me with a car, a map, and a miniscule bag of things! I have to make my way across the country like that in less than a month! How can I even begin to take on that task?"

The burger was delivered next. He looked at it for a moment, and poked it with a finger. Goodness, this was ghastly. He took a bite with a grimace. "And this burger is terrible," he said, practically half-wailing. He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"And I forgot the worst part... my car won't even start! I really am doomed! I can't walk across the country in three weeks! I simply refuse!"

 

[welcome2hale]

Oh. He regretted sitting down the second the man across from him started speaking. The entitlement dripping off his every word, the whiny tone to his voice. Even the way he was insulting the food. To be fair the diner wasn't the best, and it wasn't the healthiest, but it was decent! It definitely wasn't as bad as this guy was making it out to be. Christopher was halfway out of the booth before he could finish his whining, without even saying a word.

And then the stranger had to go and say the magic words. Car trouble. Silently, he slid back down onto the vinyl seat.

"What kind of car?" Christopher waved two fingers at the waitress behind the counter, alerting her to his new seat. If he was going to entertain whatever show this was, he might as well get to eat his lunch. The diner wasn't fancy at all; what you saw on the menu was what you got. But it was a small town. If they liked you, they made exceptions. That was how Christopher ended up with pancakes and french fries at noon, six days of the week.

He raised an eyebrow as he drizzled frankly too much syrup on his pancakes, and then some on his fries for good measure. "Are you out of gas by any chance? Maybe your butler forgot to top you off before you left?" He couldn't help the jab as he took a huge bite of his lunch. But he really was curious. He loved puzzles, and cars were probably his favorite kind. So many pieces, and each model was different. He swept the hair out of his eyes, a lock that had fallen from his ponytail. Curiosity was going to be the death of him, he could tell.

"Maybe you're just used to having someone turn the key for you?"

 

[goodbyeskyharbor]

Arthur was quiet after he finished recounting his tale of woe. Instead, he had another shot at the food, eating the burger rather awkwardly, almost as if it was beneath him to do so. He admitted to himself after a few more bites that it really wasn't that bad, but he'd never dare say it out loud. Look at him! A little while out of his bubble, and he was finding... diner food tolerable. His friends would laugh him out of the room!

He was sure the man would react with sympathy to his misery. After all, he couldn't think of anything more awful happening to anyone ever. Maybe he'd even give him a phone, and he could cry (mostly fake tears) and promise (falsely) to his parents that he had learnt the errors of his ways (ha, no way) and they'd welcome him home with open arms. That... did not happen.

The sarcasm went over Arthur's head completely. "Oh, no. Bertie assured me that the tank was full before I departed," he said, carefully wiping his mouth with the napkin. He missed the old man. He was so... pleasant, no matter how many times Arthur essentially tormented him.

The other question made him laugh. "Oh, I'm not stupid! I know how to do that. It just... stopped. I mean, the car was polite. It didn't stop in the middle of traffic. Just right near this..." he scrunched up his nose. "... lovely place. Won't start at all. It's certainly not out of petrol. I don't even know where to find help in a place like this."