The Party of the Gods

He looked around for a waitress, and saw one carrying a full tray and another one taking notes. A menu landed in front of him, but when he looked up all he saw was blond hair flying back as the carrier disappeared. He shrugged and looked at the menu. Despite how busy she was, the waitress came back fairly promptly. “Are you ready to order, sir?”

“Yes, I’ll have the Pana eel, please.”

“Would you like that with roots, rice, or rhana?”

“Roots, please.”

“And to drink?”

“A bottle of Midsouth would go well.”

As she scooped up the menu and said, “Very well, sir,” he tried to figure out why she looked strange to him. She was gone as quickly as she’d come, and to occupy himself he idly watched the other diners. When the waitress came back with the wine and a goblet, the curious feeling came back. He studied her, trying not to stare too rudely. There was nothing obviously unusual about her. She was dressed very neatly, in her uniform blouse and skirt. Her hair was tied back, her shoes matched her outfit. There was just something – not right – about her looks.

He filled his grumbling stomach with wine and hoped the food would not take long. As he drank, he watched the other waitresses, trying to figure out what was odd about his. While he waited an eternity for the food, the blond came into view several times; once just two tables away. When she arrived with his food, something struck him suddenly. Her make-up was all wrong. Most of the waitresses, as well as ladies at tables, wore figure enhancing garments, make‑up, and careful hair-dos. When he looked closely, he realised the blond, too, had make‑up and a careful hair‑do. It was just wrong. Her clothes were ruffled in just the wrong places. It was almost as if she was trying to look as unattractive as possible, while still looking neat.