Hard is the Path #2: Biscuits and Gravy

Creamed chipped beef poured over buttermilk biscuits. Some people call it shit on a shingle. It tastes like manna from heaven. Why am I so hungry? How long was I asleep for. The waitress sets down my second order and quickly retreats to the other end of the counter. I must look terrible..she spares one final uneasy glance then goes through the double doors to the kitchen. I can feel the little metal talon in my pocket. It seems to sit uneasy there , thrumming with some preternatural life of its own. The jacket I picked up had cigarettes , thank the powers. I pull out the battered pack of Pall Malls. Searching around for a light. No matches on the counter. Hmmm.. No waitress either. No other customers. Nothing strange about this I suppose it is 3 am I should be happy. These all night spots aren't as common as they once were. Then I notice the steam leaking through the doors to the kitchen. Something isn't right here. I slide over the counter and cautiously make my way to the doors. I push through and am assaulted by the sharp coppery smell of spilt blood. The kitchen is a mess to say the least. Blood is everywhere. Its like someone ran out of Dutch boy and open their wrists to finish up. There is blood burned black on the griddle. Beneath it all is another stench. This miasma hits my like a tidal wave of refuse and rancid meat. Like the last breath of a terminal cancer patient. The door to the pantry is open. I can hear a low chirping sound. Not particularly menacing. Thats when it steps past the lintel. Its the waitress but the semi attractive women with the impressive endowments is long gone. She moves in strange jerking movements like a scorpion on hot asphalt. No shoes now...no feet for that matter. Precariously balance on three rather long , and rather menacing talons. Her left hand is a scythe of bone ending at a jagged evil looking edge. Her other hand has not faired much better ..bent back wards at the elbow as though she had wished very greatly to scratch her own back..wicked claws now, no dainty digits. A gaping maw loaded with knitting needle teeth has replace the pouting lips. The eyes are the worst..lengthen backwards over her forehead. Whites now yellow as rotten egg yolks. Full of surprise and malevolence. Like Mickey mouse's eyes after years of filandering and alcohol....desperate for my liver. Unbelievably she speaks..its a high chittering sound like breaking glass on ice. "Was there anything else you needed?" I back away horrify and she is closing on me..hungry still. Then I can feel it my pocket hot like a coal. The talisman..as I pull it out a blue ball of fire flashes from the hanging pendent forcing me to shut my eyes. I can hear it shriek in rage and pain. I don't catch what happens next its all to fast and I cant see clearly. The back door is torn off its hinges and I see the waitress flee.... The fire is gone as suddenly as it appears. I think its time to leave. I go back out and grab my bag and walk to the door. "You are probably wondering what this is all about" a voice says from behind me. I'm getting ready to book fearing the worst. "Don't run my friend ..you are more important than you know" I turn to the voice..its owner is an older man fairly squat and unimportant looking in a trench coat and fedora looking like a G-man of old. I tell him I need to get out of here and fast. "Where are you going?" Home I say... " Pal there is no going home...You have a higher purpose." " Just have a seat...do you hear sirens ...noone is comming." I want to run ...but something makes me turn around and walk to the booth the little man gestures too. " Good very good" Well I suppose it won't kill me I say.. "Very true ...very true old son ..I know that for a fact..after all if I'm right...you already died once today...and you seem to be handling that rather nicely"