Woah! For some reason LJ is loading at home, so I'm taking advantage of it and posting part 5! I also have finished about... a third of part 7? I went ahead because I was too excited about Cosmo meeting Kate. I mean not meeting her for the first time, but seeing each other and interacting alone. It's such an amusing concept when I think about how literally a day after I designed Cosmo, in 2004, Kate told me to "give him to [her]". I thought this was a joke-crush, but it lasted for years. Once people at DeviantArt started seeing more Cosmo, I realized he sparked ladies' interests, and when I told Kate she said "well I will fight for him!" lol
A joke or not, she has indeed earned the position of his first girlfriend. It's just bittersweet to be writing this when next month it will have been a year since I heard from her. It's just weird. I find what she's done so weird.
ANYWAY,
CRYSTAL PALACE 4 – Part 5 – The Man Bluer than the Moon
INT. COSMO’S APARTMENT. NEXT MORNING.
An alarm clock, clearly from the 1990’s, blasts a symphony at exactly 6:00 in the morning. Cosmo’s hand comes down on it fast, and the camera trails from the clock to find him rubbing his eyes. With a serious case of bedhead, he takes his shirt off while heading into the bathroom, where a towel is already waiting for him, and the shower door is open.
CUT TO: Inside the shower, where Cosmo is standing there with his eyes closed and his mouth open (not into the water, of course). As the steam rises, he discreetly lowers his hand below the frame and smiles to himself.
CUT TO: A close-up view of his eggs as he adds diced onions, cheese, and bell peppers, complete with spices. When we see Cosmo, he’s doing this all in a bright, flowery apron with a very bored expression.
CUT TO: Cosmo, apron removed, in his work button-down (this time short-sleeved), wandering towards us from the background with his plate in hand. The next shot shows we were in the POV of his computer. While he’s waiting to log in, he shovels some more of his omelet into his mouth, and then he opens Google. In the search box we see “dating service contact email” entered, but he gets no results but the homepage. He clicks on it.
Across the homepage of the dating service website is his own image. He’s holding up his zucchini with a gaping, shit-eating smile, and the title above him reads “I’m a patron of sex!”
Cosmo sets down his plate with a loud clatter.
CUT TO: Cosmo finally arriving at a contact form. He begins to type vigorously while spitting words under his breath.
INT. RESTAURANT. 30MIN LATER.
Cosmo is approaching the doors from outside, looking as blank-faced as ever in public. He silently enters, journeys past the counter, and places his thermos on a back table. Like his boss just sensed a presence, he rolls out on his computer chair from the light of his office. He greets him like a most treasured nephew.
MANAGER
Morning, Cosmo!
Cosmo sheepishly waves and clocks in, only to find that Mr. Quellini has appeared right behind him with his hands on his hips.
MANAGER
Today? Haul ass. It was a catastrophe yesterday that I had to clean up after. Three refunds and a bad message in the review box. About you.
COSMO
Yes, sir.
Cosmo answers without looking him in the face, then turns the corner to check on his tables. To his delight, no one is in his section yet, but an attractive young lady is sitting nearby with a book. He decides to visit her with the coffee pitcher as his excuse.
He peers over her table as he arrives. Her cup is nearly full. She notices him before he can turn around, so he clears his throat.
COSMO
Oh, you’ve got enough, don’t you?
The lady giggles.
LADY
Yes, I do. Are you new here?
COSMO
(self-consciously)
How could you tell?
LADY
I’m here a couple times a week. I have a class in the morning. At SCC.
Cosmo smiles.
COSMO
What’re you studying?
LADY
Linguistics.
Cosmo smiles even wider, but he sees a group lead towards his largest table.
COSMO
I’ve got to go, now. Enjoy your breakfast.
He takes one more glance at her table, only to find that there’s no breakfast there at all, but he’s already made the turn towards the counter and would look too stupid if he twisted back around to correct himself. As he’s reaching for some coffee cups, the back busser clocks in behind him. He’s forced to stand there with his fingers stretching around eight cup handles, waiting for the busser to stop flirting with Mary, but the boy finally turns around.
OWEN
Oh, hey, dude.
COSMO
(already exasperated)
Cosmo. What’s your name?
OWEN
Owen.
COSMO
Nice to meet you. Listen, I see that you buss my section, and I just wanted to make sure that you were prepared to bring water and coffee there. Yesterday I felt I was doing all of the work alone, and it was a bit much to handle.
Owen suddenly frowns.
OWEN
Well, do it faster?
COSMO
I can’t do it any faster. I need you to help me.
Owen snorts.
OWEN
Sure thing, dude. Why don’t you let me do that, and you can get some water?
He reaches for Cosmo’s coffee pitcher and swats his hand in front of all his cups.
COSMO
I-It might actually be easier if I just go over there myself.
But the busser is still trying to take the handles out of his tight grip. Clumsily, Cosmo starts to set them on the back table and nearly drops one. Nearby, Mr. Quellini is witnessing the transition, shaking his head. When Cosmo’s hands are free, he resolves to get the table’s water, finding himself a tray on the way to the glasses and filling it quickly with waters. From view of the eight person table, we see Cosmo coming with the waters, but the busser is nowhere in sight and no one has their coffee. He sets the glasses down while spotting him at a far off table. Worse, all of his tables have been seated.
COSMO
Would anyone like some… coffee?
WOMAN #1
No, but do you have Moroccan soy milk?
COSMO
Moroccan?
WOMAN #2
Yeah, and I’d like Czech-Slovakian. 1%.
MAN #1
If you don’t mind, could you find out what type of cake is in the middle of the second case up front, with the sprinkles and nuts? I’d like to buy one, but it’s for my niece’s birthday, and she’s allergic to acorns, so I just have to make sure they aren’t acorns.
Cosmo nods while scribbling on his notepad and failing to withhold a grimace.
MAN #1
I’ll take a coffee.
COSMO
Alright. And you, madam?
WOMAN #3
A grapefruit juice would be nice.
MAN #1
Uh, excuse me sir, but I’d like to have a drink, too.
COSMO
Oh, I’m sorry, what would you like?
MAN #1
I’d like to get a mocha, but… without the shot of espresso.
COSMO
So… a hot chocolate.
MAN #1
Oh, is that what it is? …That doesn’t sound good. Can you just put a little bit of decaf coffee in it?
COSMO
(through his teeth)
…Of course.
A montage shows Cosmo’s morning go by in a collection of quests for obscure things. He’s on his tip-toes in the store room moving boxes on high shelves, sorting through the refrigerator, running out of soy milk and not finding any extra cartons, and brushing over all the sugar baskets for more of those shitty substitutes in the blue packages.
Eventually, he closes himself into the janitor’s closet and is heard beating his fists and yelling “fuck fuck fuck, fucking fuck!” from inside.
INT. REHAB CAFETERIA. NOON.
Akira is debating which type of pudding he’d like on his lunch tray. His hand hovers over tapioca, but he sees the cherry and just can’t make a commitment. Suddenly another tray slides up beside his, and he looks up to see Ronnie grinning at him.
RONNIE
Hello, A-keer-ah. Remember me?
Akira picks tapioca and continues on his way.
RONNIE
Remember? I know the Knuckle? I make friends with all the cool people, which is why I’m talking to you, buddy.
By now, Akira is throwing any old thing he sees onto his tray. He steps away from the counter and looks for a table when Ronnie reaches for his hand, and Akira instinctively pulls his away.
AKIRA
Hey!
RONNIE
I just wanted to hold hands! So everyone knows we’re together!
He explains, following him to a table and scooting his chair up right next to him. Akira shoots a tortured look to “God”.
RONNIE
Hey, how come you wear those gloves?
AKIRA
Listen – unless you’ve got a secret stash, fuck off.
Ronnie frowns deeply, and then throws himself in Akira’s face, a sudden sinister light shining from overhead.
RONNIE
Well if I did, that wouldn’t get you anywhere having some of it! Don’t be an asshole, man. I’ll cut you.
He sits back in his chair and enjoys a crouton from his salad. Akira blinks, then finally swishes his hand.
AKIRA
Well do you or don’t you?
RONNIE
Let’s not talk about alcohol unless we’re serious, okay?
AKIRA
Fine.
Akira attempts to scoot his chair further away from Ronnie, but when he begins to pick at his microwaved potato and string bean entre, Ronnie is already back to brushing legs with him. He leans towards Akira and his breath runs through his hair.
RONNIE
I feel like you’re the only one I can trust around here. (sighs) I mean that was some heavy shit. You’ve got all of the reason in the world to be here.
AKIRA
Gee, that’s really comforting coming from you.
RONNIE
Exactly. We gotta stick together, you and me. We’re two people the world has been cruel to with NO excuse. NO excuse whatsoever. Why, you’re just – you’re so fine, man.
AKIRA
I’m not gay.
RONNIE
I’m not asking you to be gay. I’m asking you to trade in hos for bro’s, brother. Let’s just be brothers and forget women.
Akira is clearly (but ironically?) put off by his statements and moves his chair once again, but Ronnie stays close.
RONNIE
Hey. Don’t be like that to me. ‘Cause you know what? I got a lot of power around here that nobody knows about yet. Only the right people, the people I pick, are going to be happy in the end. All of them,
And he spreads his hand, indicating the rest if the room, shaking his head. When he points to Akira, he playfully shrugs.
RONNIE
If we’re together, it could be beautiful. But if you betray me… you’re in the black book. You’ll be in the Knuckle’s black book. And I don’t think you’d like that.
Akira has nothing to say; he just frowns at him.
INT. RESTAURANT. 4:30PM.
Cosmo appears in the back hall to clock out, but he looks like he’s been wandering the Sahara desert and his shirt is coming out of his pants. Mr. Quellini calls him from somewhere and he looks around.
He appears out beside the front desk, only to find his boss standing with his arms crossed with the man he saw early in the morning standing politely at the counter behind them.
MANAGER
Cosmo, did you have a customer in this morning who asked for a cake?
COSMO
Oh, yes, I did.
MANAGER
Well he never got his cake! And now he’s furious. He was foaming at the mouth when he came in and I had to coax him not to leave another bad review.
Cosmo peers over Mr. Quellini’s shoulder and finds the man looking around the room, whistling a happy tune.
MANAGER
I want you to put in his order in and give him a discount. You can clock out afterward.
Cosmo bows his head and goes around the counter.
COSMO
Hello, sir. I’m terribly sorry that you didn’t get your cake this morning. I tried to find out about the nuts, but we didn’t have anyone in the bakery who spoke English this morning and I was juggling a million things at once.
MAN
Oh, that’s okay. I spaced on it myself. I was thinking if I wanted to bother with it at all once I got home, but… it’s just such a nice looking cake.
COSMO
Ahahahah… yes, it is. Well, my boss says you can get a discount, although he didn’t say for how much.
MAN
But are they acorns?
Cosmo leans over the glass and looks.
COSMO
No, those are almonds. And pecans.
MAN
Oh, great, then I'll take it.
Cosmo nods, then looks around for Mr. Quellini. Instead he sees Mary nearby and calls her over.
COSMO
Would you be so kind as to ring up the, uh… The almond and pecan ginger spice cake, with a discount? I don’t know which kind is appropriate; Mr. Quellini didn’t say.
Mary arrives looking put off by Cosmo’s sweat stains.
MARY
Uh, sure…
MAN
Thank you!
Cosmo nods politely and watches over the order until the man is walking out the door. A brief shot shows him giving his lunch order to a cook. Another shows him returning to his thermos and taking a long, refreshing swig. Mr. Quellini appears behind him out of nowhere, shouting “COSMO!” loud enough to scare the shit out of him.
COSMO
(clears throat) Sir!
MANAGER
I saw what you did. You didn’t even punch in the order.
COSMO
…No one taught me how to use the cash register.
MANAGER
Well, you could have figured it out during a slow time!
COSMO
There… where no slow times. We’ve been up to our eyeballs since sunrise.
Mr. Quellini looks deeply ashamed for a moment, but Cosmo sets down his thermos.
COSMO
Um, sir, I don’t mean to be rude, in any way, but… could we speak more privately for a moment?
Mr. Quellini darts his eyes around and heads towards his office with Cosmo on his trail. They sit down with the desk between them.
MANAGER
Okay, now that you’ve brought me into my own office, shoot.
COSMO
Sir, I… I’ve been trying very hard to please you these last couple days, but I get the impression that I’m not being given the tools to do that. For example, the cash register – I would’ve been entirely willing to visit the night or the weekend after I was hired to learn those skills. (pause) The busser, uh, Owen – he’s not bringing water or coffee to all the tables. In fact, he’s been ignoring mine all together. Furthermore, I’m worried my section is a bit too popular for me to handle. I do have a lot of experience in service, but I think until I understand this particular structure it wouldn’t be wise to place me there.
MANAGER
Uhuh?
COSMO
And, to be honest with you, with regards to the busser, I’m worried there’s a general lack of organization, which is detrimental to the waiters, and waitresses. I’ve noticed the barista is also the hostess. And when things get very busy, Mary is picking up slack for both her and the bussers, making it all a very stressful environment.
MANAGER
Ah, so you’d like to be the manager, huh?
Mr. Quellini stands up with his nostrils flaring and urges Cosmo from his chair, who swishes his hands in protest and recoils in his seat.
MANAGER
Go ahead, sit in the chair! I’d love to hear more about these brilliant ideas in a more fitting, subordinate position! You are truly a revolutionary!
COSMO
No, please.
MANAGER
No, I insist! It didn’t take much, but I can tell you’re ready for bigger and better things! I’ve only been doing this job for nine years!
COSMO
Sir, PLEASE.
Mr. Quellini looks amused as he plops back into his chair.
COSMO
Sir, I, I understand how this environment could be very difficult, but mostly because I have a lot of experience serving, and I’m certain, at least I felt certain, that I worked for the most particular management there could possibly be. You see, I was a servant for the royal family in the Shiver Region. I worked for the Crystal King and his family for over a centur- decade.
MANAGER
Who?
COSMO
The Crystal King, and Queen… and their son.
MANAGER
What?
Cosmo takes a folded map conveniently from his pocket and spreads it over the desk. Mr. Quellini puts on a pair of glasses and squints at it while rubbing his chin.
COSMO
I suppose that might sound a little obscure to you. You see? Uh, the Shiver Region, right here, where I grew up. It’s just above-
MANAGER
What, did you draw this?
COSMO
No, this is-
MANAGER
What is this, for a fantasy novel?
COSMO
No, this is a real place. Look, there’s Canada.
MANAGER
Are you trying to throw me for a loop?
COSMO
No, I’m not.
MANAGER
What, did you get this at McDonalds?
Cosmo takes a moment to gather his thoughts, then neatly returns the map to his pocket.
COSMO
No, sir.
MANAGER
You know, I think I’ve had quite enough of this. I was kind enough to overlook the bullshit you put in your resume, but I better’ve heard the last of it, especially if you want to keep those eight little tables!
COSMO
Yes, sir.
He leaves the room curling his fingers at his sides like a strangler who needs a victim.
CUT TO: Cosmo dejectedly finishing a sandwich at an empty table. He spots Mr. Quellini and Mary behind the counter, and they seem to be getting along swimmingly. He sighs and checks his pager, then grumbles while shoving it back into his pocket. He goes to put away his plate, but on the way back, he overhears a conversation.
MANAGER
I’d be careful, Mary! Nutcases like that only come around every blue moon, and he’s bluer than any moon!
MARY
I was wondering why such a serious man would dye his hair blue… What is it, the “Shitty Regions”?
MANAGER
Shiver Regions – I don’t know. Oh well. I like a little harmless crazy at work. Otherwise I’d< shoot myself.
MARY
Amen.
Cosmo furrows his brow and gathers his things in a rush, but as he’s leaving the restaurant, he spots Owen heading towards a bright red Mustang, complete with a foxy young lady waiting for him. He greets her with a passionate kiss and they practically dry-hump against the side of the car.
Favorite Quotes
Lastly, here's my page count, for everything so far, including the unposted part 7. I'm doing pretty good if I say so myself. :)
58 / 100 words. 58% done!
A joke or not, she has indeed earned the position of his first girlfriend. It's just bittersweet to be writing this when next month it will have been a year since I heard from her. It's just weird. I find what she's done so weird.
ANYWAY,
CRYSTAL PALACE 4 – Part 5 – The Man Bluer than the Moon
INT. COSMO’S APARTMENT. NEXT MORNING.
An alarm clock, clearly from the 1990’s, blasts a symphony at exactly 6:00 in the morning. Cosmo’s hand comes down on it fast, and the camera trails from the clock to find him rubbing his eyes. With a serious case of bedhead, he takes his shirt off while heading into the bathroom, where a towel is already waiting for him, and the shower door is open.
CUT TO: Inside the shower, where Cosmo is standing there with his eyes closed and his mouth open (not into the water, of course). As the steam rises, he discreetly lowers his hand below the frame and smiles to himself.
CUT TO: A close-up view of his eggs as he adds diced onions, cheese, and bell peppers, complete with spices. When we see Cosmo, he’s doing this all in a bright, flowery apron with a very bored expression.
CUT TO: Cosmo, apron removed, in his work button-down (this time short-sleeved), wandering towards us from the background with his plate in hand. The next shot shows we were in the POV of his computer. While he’s waiting to log in, he shovels some more of his omelet into his mouth, and then he opens Google. In the search box we see “dating service contact email” entered, but he gets no results but the homepage. He clicks on it.
Across the homepage of the dating service website is his own image. He’s holding up his zucchini with a gaping, shit-eating smile, and the title above him reads “I’m a patron of sex!”
Cosmo sets down his plate with a loud clatter.
CUT TO: Cosmo finally arriving at a contact form. He begins to type vigorously while spitting words under his breath.
INT. RESTAURANT. 30MIN LATER.
Cosmo is approaching the doors from outside, looking as blank-faced as ever in public. He silently enters, journeys past the counter, and places his thermos on a back table. Like his boss just sensed a presence, he rolls out on his computer chair from the light of his office. He greets him like a most treasured nephew.
MANAGER
Morning, Cosmo!
Cosmo sheepishly waves and clocks in, only to find that Mr. Quellini has appeared right behind him with his hands on his hips.
MANAGER
Today? Haul ass. It was a catastrophe yesterday that I had to clean up after. Three refunds and a bad message in the review box. About you.
COSMO
Yes, sir.
Cosmo answers without looking him in the face, then turns the corner to check on his tables. To his delight, no one is in his section yet, but an attractive young lady is sitting nearby with a book. He decides to visit her with the coffee pitcher as his excuse.
He peers over her table as he arrives. Her cup is nearly full. She notices him before he can turn around, so he clears his throat.
COSMO
Oh, you’ve got enough, don’t you?
The lady giggles.
LADY
Yes, I do. Are you new here?
COSMO
(self-consciously)
How could you tell?
LADY
I’m here a couple times a week. I have a class in the morning. At SCC.
Cosmo smiles.
COSMO
What’re you studying?
LADY
Linguistics.
Cosmo smiles even wider, but he sees a group lead towards his largest table.
COSMO
I’ve got to go, now. Enjoy your breakfast.
He takes one more glance at her table, only to find that there’s no breakfast there at all, but he’s already made the turn towards the counter and would look too stupid if he twisted back around to correct himself. As he’s reaching for some coffee cups, the back busser clocks in behind him. He’s forced to stand there with his fingers stretching around eight cup handles, waiting for the busser to stop flirting with Mary, but the boy finally turns around.
OWEN
Oh, hey, dude.
COSMO
(already exasperated)
Cosmo. What’s your name?
OWEN
Owen.
COSMO
Nice to meet you. Listen, I see that you buss my section, and I just wanted to make sure that you were prepared to bring water and coffee there. Yesterday I felt I was doing all of the work alone, and it was a bit much to handle.
Owen suddenly frowns.
OWEN
Well, do it faster?
COSMO
I can’t do it any faster. I need you to help me.
Owen snorts.
OWEN
Sure thing, dude. Why don’t you let me do that, and you can get some water?
He reaches for Cosmo’s coffee pitcher and swats his hand in front of all his cups.
COSMO
I-It might actually be easier if I just go over there myself.
But the busser is still trying to take the handles out of his tight grip. Clumsily, Cosmo starts to set them on the back table and nearly drops one. Nearby, Mr. Quellini is witnessing the transition, shaking his head. When Cosmo’s hands are free, he resolves to get the table’s water, finding himself a tray on the way to the glasses and filling it quickly with waters. From view of the eight person table, we see Cosmo coming with the waters, but the busser is nowhere in sight and no one has their coffee. He sets the glasses down while spotting him at a far off table. Worse, all of his tables have been seated.
COSMO
Would anyone like some… coffee?
WOMAN #1
No, but do you have Moroccan soy milk?
COSMO
Moroccan?
WOMAN #2
Yeah, and I’d like Czech-Slovakian. 1%.
MAN #1
If you don’t mind, could you find out what type of cake is in the middle of the second case up front, with the sprinkles and nuts? I’d like to buy one, but it’s for my niece’s birthday, and she’s allergic to acorns, so I just have to make sure they aren’t acorns.
Cosmo nods while scribbling on his notepad and failing to withhold a grimace.
MAN #1
I’ll take a coffee.
COSMO
Alright. And you, madam?
WOMAN #3
A grapefruit juice would be nice.
MAN #1
Uh, excuse me sir, but I’d like to have a drink, too.
COSMO
Oh, I’m sorry, what would you like?
MAN #1
I’d like to get a mocha, but… without the shot of espresso.
COSMO
So… a hot chocolate.
MAN #1
Oh, is that what it is? …That doesn’t sound good. Can you just put a little bit of decaf coffee in it?
COSMO
(through his teeth)
…Of course.
A montage shows Cosmo’s morning go by in a collection of quests for obscure things. He’s on his tip-toes in the store room moving boxes on high shelves, sorting through the refrigerator, running out of soy milk and not finding any extra cartons, and brushing over all the sugar baskets for more of those shitty substitutes in the blue packages.
Eventually, he closes himself into the janitor’s closet and is heard beating his fists and yelling “fuck fuck fuck, fucking fuck!” from inside.
INT. REHAB CAFETERIA. NOON.
Akira is debating which type of pudding he’d like on his lunch tray. His hand hovers over tapioca, but he sees the cherry and just can’t make a commitment. Suddenly another tray slides up beside his, and he looks up to see Ronnie grinning at him.
RONNIE
Hello, A-keer-ah. Remember me?
Akira picks tapioca and continues on his way.
RONNIE
Remember? I know the Knuckle? I make friends with all the cool people, which is why I’m talking to you, buddy.
By now, Akira is throwing any old thing he sees onto his tray. He steps away from the counter and looks for a table when Ronnie reaches for his hand, and Akira instinctively pulls his away.
AKIRA
Hey!
RONNIE
I just wanted to hold hands! So everyone knows we’re together!
He explains, following him to a table and scooting his chair up right next to him. Akira shoots a tortured look to “God”.
RONNIE
Hey, how come you wear those gloves?
AKIRA
Listen – unless you’ve got a secret stash, fuck off.
Ronnie frowns deeply, and then throws himself in Akira’s face, a sudden sinister light shining from overhead.
RONNIE
Well if I did, that wouldn’t get you anywhere having some of it! Don’t be an asshole, man. I’ll cut you.
He sits back in his chair and enjoys a crouton from his salad. Akira blinks, then finally swishes his hand.
AKIRA
Well do you or don’t you?
RONNIE
Let’s not talk about alcohol unless we’re serious, okay?
AKIRA
Fine.
Akira attempts to scoot his chair further away from Ronnie, but when he begins to pick at his microwaved potato and string bean entre, Ronnie is already back to brushing legs with him. He leans towards Akira and his breath runs through his hair.
RONNIE
I feel like you’re the only one I can trust around here. (sighs) I mean that was some heavy shit. You’ve got all of the reason in the world to be here.
AKIRA
Gee, that’s really comforting coming from you.
RONNIE
Exactly. We gotta stick together, you and me. We’re two people the world has been cruel to with NO excuse. NO excuse whatsoever. Why, you’re just – you’re so fine, man.
AKIRA
I’m not gay.
RONNIE
I’m not asking you to be gay. I’m asking you to trade in hos for bro’s, brother. Let’s just be brothers and forget women.
Akira is clearly (but ironically?) put off by his statements and moves his chair once again, but Ronnie stays close.
RONNIE
Hey. Don’t be like that to me. ‘Cause you know what? I got a lot of power around here that nobody knows about yet. Only the right people, the people I pick, are going to be happy in the end. All of them,
And he spreads his hand, indicating the rest if the room, shaking his head. When he points to Akira, he playfully shrugs.
RONNIE
If we’re together, it could be beautiful. But if you betray me… you’re in the black book. You’ll be in the Knuckle’s black book. And I don’t think you’d like that.
Akira has nothing to say; he just frowns at him.
INT. RESTAURANT. 4:30PM.
Cosmo appears in the back hall to clock out, but he looks like he’s been wandering the Sahara desert and his shirt is coming out of his pants. Mr. Quellini calls him from somewhere and he looks around.
He appears out beside the front desk, only to find his boss standing with his arms crossed with the man he saw early in the morning standing politely at the counter behind them.
MANAGER
Cosmo, did you have a customer in this morning who asked for a cake?
COSMO
Oh, yes, I did.
MANAGER
Well he never got his cake! And now he’s furious. He was foaming at the mouth when he came in and I had to coax him not to leave another bad review.
Cosmo peers over Mr. Quellini’s shoulder and finds the man looking around the room, whistling a happy tune.
MANAGER
I want you to put in his order in and give him a discount. You can clock out afterward.
Cosmo bows his head and goes around the counter.
COSMO
Hello, sir. I’m terribly sorry that you didn’t get your cake this morning. I tried to find out about the nuts, but we didn’t have anyone in the bakery who spoke English this morning and I was juggling a million things at once.
MAN
Oh, that’s okay. I spaced on it myself. I was thinking if I wanted to bother with it at all once I got home, but… it’s just such a nice looking cake.
COSMO
Ahahahah… yes, it is. Well, my boss says you can get a discount, although he didn’t say for how much.
MAN
But are they acorns?
Cosmo leans over the glass and looks.
COSMO
No, those are almonds. And pecans.
MAN
Oh, great, then I'll take it.
Cosmo nods, then looks around for Mr. Quellini. Instead he sees Mary nearby and calls her over.
COSMO
Would you be so kind as to ring up the, uh… The almond and pecan ginger spice cake, with a discount? I don’t know which kind is appropriate; Mr. Quellini didn’t say.
Mary arrives looking put off by Cosmo’s sweat stains.
MARY
Uh, sure…
MAN
Thank you!
Cosmo nods politely and watches over the order until the man is walking out the door. A brief shot shows him giving his lunch order to a cook. Another shows him returning to his thermos and taking a long, refreshing swig. Mr. Quellini appears behind him out of nowhere, shouting “COSMO!” loud enough to scare the shit out of him.
COSMO
(clears throat) Sir!
MANAGER
I saw what you did. You didn’t even punch in the order.
COSMO
…No one taught me how to use the cash register.
MANAGER
Well, you could have figured it out during a slow time!
COSMO
There… where no slow times. We’ve been up to our eyeballs since sunrise.
Mr. Quellini looks deeply ashamed for a moment, but Cosmo sets down his thermos.
COSMO
Um, sir, I don’t mean to be rude, in any way, but… could we speak more privately for a moment?
Mr. Quellini darts his eyes around and heads towards his office with Cosmo on his trail. They sit down with the desk between them.
MANAGER
Okay, now that you’ve brought me into my own office, shoot.
COSMO
Sir, I… I’ve been trying very hard to please you these last couple days, but I get the impression that I’m not being given the tools to do that. For example, the cash register – I would’ve been entirely willing to visit the night or the weekend after I was hired to learn those skills. (pause) The busser, uh, Owen – he’s not bringing water or coffee to all the tables. In fact, he’s been ignoring mine all together. Furthermore, I’m worried my section is a bit too popular for me to handle. I do have a lot of experience in service, but I think until I understand this particular structure it wouldn’t be wise to place me there.
MANAGER
Uhuh?
COSMO
And, to be honest with you, with regards to the busser, I’m worried there’s a general lack of organization, which is detrimental to the waiters, and waitresses. I’ve noticed the barista is also the hostess. And when things get very busy, Mary is picking up slack for both her and the bussers, making it all a very stressful environment.
MANAGER
Ah, so you’d like to be the manager, huh?
Mr. Quellini stands up with his nostrils flaring and urges Cosmo from his chair, who swishes his hands in protest and recoils in his seat.
MANAGER
Go ahead, sit in the chair! I’d love to hear more about these brilliant ideas in a more fitting, subordinate position! You are truly a revolutionary!
COSMO
No, please.
MANAGER
No, I insist! It didn’t take much, but I can tell you’re ready for bigger and better things! I’ve only been doing this job for nine years!
COSMO
Sir, PLEASE.
Mr. Quellini looks amused as he plops back into his chair.
COSMO
Sir, I, I understand how this environment could be very difficult, but mostly because I have a lot of experience serving, and I’m certain, at least I felt certain, that I worked for the most particular management there could possibly be. You see, I was a servant for the royal family in the Shiver Region. I worked for the Crystal King and his family for over a centur- decade.
MANAGER
Who?
COSMO
The Crystal King, and Queen… and their son.
MANAGER
What?
Cosmo takes a folded map conveniently from his pocket and spreads it over the desk. Mr. Quellini puts on a pair of glasses and squints at it while rubbing his chin.
COSMO
I suppose that might sound a little obscure to you. You see? Uh, the Shiver Region, right here, where I grew up. It’s just above-
MANAGER
What, did you draw this?
COSMO
No, this is-
MANAGER
What is this, for a fantasy novel?
COSMO
No, this is a real place. Look, there’s Canada.
MANAGER
Are you trying to throw me for a loop?
COSMO
No, I’m not.
MANAGER
What, did you get this at McDonalds?
Cosmo takes a moment to gather his thoughts, then neatly returns the map to his pocket.
COSMO
No, sir.
MANAGER
You know, I think I’ve had quite enough of this. I was kind enough to overlook the bullshit you put in your resume, but I better’ve heard the last of it, especially if you want to keep those eight little tables!
COSMO
Yes, sir.
He leaves the room curling his fingers at his sides like a strangler who needs a victim.
CUT TO: Cosmo dejectedly finishing a sandwich at an empty table. He spots Mr. Quellini and Mary behind the counter, and they seem to be getting along swimmingly. He sighs and checks his pager, then grumbles while shoving it back into his pocket. He goes to put away his plate, but on the way back, he overhears a conversation.
MANAGER
I’d be careful, Mary! Nutcases like that only come around every blue moon, and he’s bluer than any moon!
MARY
I was wondering why such a serious man would dye his hair blue… What is it, the “Shitty Regions”?
MANAGER
Shiver Regions – I don’t know. Oh well. I like a little harmless crazy at work. Otherwise I’d< shoot myself.
MARY
Amen.
Cosmo furrows his brow and gathers his things in a rush, but as he’s leaving the restaurant, he spots Owen heading towards a bright red Mustang, complete with a foxy young lady waiting for him. He greets her with a passionate kiss and they practically dry-hump against the side of the car.
WOMAN #1
No, but do you have Moroccan soy milk?
COSMO
Moroccan?
AKIRA
Listen – unless you’ve got a secret stash, fuck off.
MANAGER
What, did you draw this?
COSMO
No, this is-
MANAGER
What is this, for a fantasy novel?
COSMO
No, this is a real place. Look, there’s Canada.
MANAGER
Are you trying to throw me for a loop?
COSMO
No, I’m not.
MANAGER
What, did you get this at McDonalds?
Cosmo takes a moment to gather his thoughts, then neatly returns the map to his pocket.
COSMO
No, sir.
MANAGER
I’d be careful, Mary! Nutcases like that only come around every blue moon, and he’s bluer than any moon!
Lastly, here's my page count, for everything so far, including the unposted part 7. I'm doing pretty good if I say so myself. :)
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