Raleigh spins away, lifts his arms, and whoops. “It’s going to be like a Gol D. Roger treasure this weekend!”
“I don’t know what that is,” says Petra. She begins to pull Sal towards the front of the kitchen, where plates of steaming food are waiting for their customers.
She looks at an order slip.
“Do you see those three people sitting by the window over there?” she asks, pointing. Three teenagers sit near a window, two chatting and one on their phone. She takes three plates and three milkshakes and puts them on a tray.
“Take this to those customers. Set these in front of them. And don’t eat any of it. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He takes the tray in two hands, and three Hook burgers, accompanying fries and three different kinds of milkshakes, one lactose-free, are like beacons under his nose. He walks slow and careful, doing his best to keep things balanced.
But his sway has milkshakes looking like pendulums by the time he reaches the table, and the fear-tart that arises he can’t tell if it’s from him or the swinging milkshakes.
“Woah, grab ‘em while they’re upright!” says the closest.
Three hands grab their milkshakes, and Big Sal sets the tray on the table.
It doesn’t seem right though, and he takes the plates off. Each person raises a hand when theirs is touched, and he figures it out quickly. When the last plate is placed, he lifts the tray again.
“You’re like the hottest thing in Ankerton right now, croc-dude,” says one kid. “Don’t listen to the haters. Just be yourself.”
“I dunno Joey,” says a girl, whose milkshake smells like mango. “You sure this croc isn’t real? I mean, he’s got drool forming.”
“Nah Jane, don’t be a hater.”
“That’s a hype costume. Where’d you get it?” asks the other.
“Oh, leave him alone, Peter.”
His proximity wristband starts to vibrate, and he looks at it. A moment later, the sound of breaking waves and a little human roar comes over restaurant speakers.
“This croc can dance! Watch him floss!” says a deep baritone of a pirate voice.
“Oh wow! We’re the first to hear the croc stinger in like, years!” says Joey.
Big Sal has no idea what is happening, just that the way everyone is looking at him, they clearly expect something.
Uhh. Gotta do something…
So, he tosses the tray he is holding up in the air in a spin, opens his jaws, and…
SNAP
A moment later, he spits the tray out with a pa-tooey.
The table erupts in laughter.
“That isn’t the floss!” says Peter. “This is the floss!”
The kid jumps up and does the floss, his arms swinging like the milkshakes were. Big Sal watches for a moment, then tries to mimic. His arms don’t have the same mobility, and he ends up looking more like a stuffed crocodile that bangs chairs with his tail.
Two phones snap, and one kid holds his screen up, recording. Again, Big Sal isn’t sure what’s happening, but the scents from the table explode outwards in a fruity potpourri of banana, mango, honey, water-return, and others.
On their faces is pure hilarity, smiles, laughter and mirth.
“Peter, you’re going to go viral! Dancing with the Hooks crocodile! First one too! Oh my god!” says Jane. “That was hi-lar-ious!”
Those Hook burgers smell amazing.
After a moment, It’s kind of like the Zit & Grit, only without the wheaty smell. These small humans aren’t afraid of me, and they’re laughing.
The scent of bison stew steeps out from between his scales.
“Alright, big guy,” whispers Petra, appearing at his elbow. “That was only the first emote. Just wait for the others.”
Then, to the table, she says, “Ahoy shipmates! Don’t feed the animals! They might just get a hankerin’ for you landlubbers!”
She leads him away from a still-laughing table and back to the kitchen.
For the next few hours, Petra tells him which plates go where, slowly explaining how the marks correspond to each table. He doesn’t get it at first. He makes a few mistakes. But the proximity band goes off every several tables, and every time it’s the floss dance. Every time he feels like a stuffed crocodile with arms that just won’t do what they’re supposed to.
I wish I had human arms for this. Flossing would be easier.
“You should go for break,” says Petra. “See the two hands on the clock?”
He looks at his hands, his claws. “How do these make a clock?”
Petra gives him a steady look. “You’re really from the back woods, aren’t you?”
“Stinkwater. Stinkwater…marsh.”
“Ok buddy. See that round thing up there?” Petra points at a wall clock in the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
“See how the two black lines are straight across the round part right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Take a break, a rest, go have a bath up in your room if you want…doesn’t matter what you do. Just be back when the lines look like this.” She holds her finger and thumb in an ‘L’ shape. “Hold yours up too.”
He does, and she makes sure he isn’t mirroring, only mimicking.
“Thanks.” Water-return arises from between his scales.
“Where do I find the cinnamon buns?”
“Uh, ask the chef. I’m not sure if we got any in today. They might have some in the freezer.”
Big Sal finds the chef.
“Dude, your costume is killer. I don’t know how you do it, but mad respect.”
“Cinnamon buns. Where are these?”
“Oh bro, I’m sorry, but we be out. There was stuff in the freezer we threw out yesterday to make room for today’s shipment. Which you absolutely rocked! Man, how much that pallet weigh? Five hundred? Six hundred pounds?”
Big Sal has no idea what’s going on, but he understands that they are out of cinnamon buns.
Darn. Got my hopes up.
And thinking of ‘up’, he remembers his ‘below-deck’ room and wanting to get back to it.
Something broken awaits.
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Chapter 18 podcast drops March 14
Chapter 19 text drops March 21
