Destined Fur More

You'd Think I'd Have Thought...

I poked at the hideous blueberry pie slice in front of me. Its blue-purple blood was leaking all over the plate, and I somehow pictured it as the outcast of all the pie. Every single one of the pie slices hated its blue-purple innards and daydreamed of punching it in its crunchy, breaded ridge of dough. The blueberry would try it's best to fit in, and eventually become a shrew who hated all other pies, even herself.

Then I realized I was trying to relate myself to pie, which effectively killed my appetite for the pie that was like me.

"Fisher," A friendly voice said, "Aren't you going to eat your pie? You did want blueberry, right?" I glanced up to see Rhonda, a waitress and Greasy Tom's. Wonderfully attractive name, no?

The place did have incredibly delicious, grease-free pie, though. Like, the die-for-and-the-resurrect-yourself-just-to-eat-it kind of pie. I still couldn't bring myself to devour the blue-purple slice that was just like me.

Unwanted.

Then I realized Rhonda was waiting for my answer. "Oh, yeah." I mumbled, "I always get blueberry," Glancing back up at the thirty year old waitress, clad in a ridiculous pink uniform and finished off with the dumbest roller skates you could ever put someone in while they tried to deliver food on very large, very unbalanced trays to very impatient people, I saw she was giving me a worried glance.

"But you're not eating it," She mumbled, pouring Gary, a very heavy-set man who came in every day at five sharp to order almost everything on the menu, more coffee into his empty mug. "You've never not ate your pie, especially when something's bothering you."

I snorted, "Gee, thanks, Rhonda. That makes me feel better," I shoved the plate of poked-at-yet-uneaten pie towards her, pulling out my dusty wallet.

She held up her hand, "Don't worry about it, you didn't eat it. No charge,"

I smiled, "Thanks," And just as I was about to get up from my stool she stopped me.

"Hey, hey! You don't think by 'No charge' I meant 'Give me absolutely nothing' did you?"

My brow furrowed, "I'm sorry, would you like me to pay you in Trident Layers?"

She rolled her chocolate eyes, "Your sense of humor never stops amazing me, Fisher."

"And yet, you never laugh."

Pulling me back into my seat, she met my eyes, full-on. "Honey, what's wrong?"

I stared at the tear in my seat for a good minute before looking back at Rhonda, "Nothing,"

She exhaled heavily, "You're a terrible liar."

Shrugging, I said, "And you're a terrible waitress," I pointed to Gary's empty coffee cup, "But you don't hear me complaining."

Rhonda glared, "Stay." She glided over to Gary, filling his cup, and then returned to me. "I'm fairly sure a child who is constantly neglected by her family is more important that Gary Wiener's fourth cup of caffeine. He can lay off," She snapped, and Gary just waved her off, but I knew he was eavesdropping.

My eyes narrowed, "I would hardly call this-" I lifted my shirt and gripped a roll of fat from my stomach, wiggling it for emphasis, "- neglected."

Rhonda pursed her lips, "Say what you want about your weight, Fisher, but donot tell me that your family kisses you goodnight and pats you on the head when you get an A."

My lip lifted in disdain, "I don't think anyone's family does that,"

Rhonda placed her hand over her face in frustration.