“They’re coming,” Renfield hissed, peering out the restaurant window. “Coming….”
“Then perhaps you should get back to the kitchen,” his master said dryly, patting down his cloak in preparations for the guests.
With a disgruntled sound, Renfield humped back towards the kitchen.
“Remember to wash your hands,” Master called, stepping up to the wooden row-boat turned on its side to form the cash register station.
With a twinkle of bells, the door pushed open and two young men stepped inside, looking around at the gaudy decorations plastered all over the interior.
“Wow,” the first of them said, looking over at Master. “Pretty wild.”
“Do you like it?”
The second man shrugged. “It’s cool, I guess.”
He would be the one to go. Normally, Master avoided snap decision. One could never tell one’s deliciousness from first glance, but this time he would make an exception.
“Come sit,” Master replied, smile on his lips, fake that it might be.
The two men sat, picking up menus.
“All you got is seafood?”
“We are by the sea.”
“You got any burgers?”
With a long-suffering sigh, Master replied, “I am sure we have some ham somewhere which can be ground up.”
“Shut up,” his friend growled and he did. “I’ll take your tuna steak sandwich and a beer.”
“Excellent choice, sir,” Master replied, heading towards the kitchen just as his faithful servant had moments before.
“A tuna steak sandwich and,” he frowned, “and your special hamburger.”
Renfield pulled out some ham and put it into the grinder. “How many, Master?”
“You decide, my faithful pet.”
The servant pulled a handful of dead flies from a jar and dropped them into the hamburger meat. Soon there were be more flies. And more and more and more.
Giggling and giggling and giggling.