Silence is Golden

Standing next to the doorway, Abe could hear the patrons who sat at the first booth outside the kitchen doorway. Their incessant whining and complaining about their miserable lives, projecting those issues onto the food they specifically chose to eat, was a constant source of frustration for him. Like a broken record, their complaints filled the air, testing Abe's patience and resolve to maintain his professionalism.

Preparing a disgusting dish to add to their misery crossed his mind, but two things stopped him. One, he took pride in the dishes he prepared; two, he wasn't the type to pile on to anyone's bad day, even though that temptation sat on his shoulder like a mini devil, egging him on.

He shook his head and moved to the grill, ready to prepare their T-bone medium rare, a baked potato with sour cream, chives, a vegetable medley of grilled onions, and colorful bell peppers of red, green, and yellow. It was a soul-soothing heavenly combination, and if they sent it back, he'd damn well eat it himself.

Ten minutes later, he rang the bell for the waitress to collect her order, then moved to the doorway, his heart pounding with anticipation. He was eager to hear their compliments, confident that he had prepared a fantastic dinner for the miserable letches.

Sally set the plate on the table and told them to enjoy their meal.

As she walked away, one of them said, "This had better be good."

Abe waited, his ear practically pressed to the doorway as the sounds of utensils and stoneware met.

One minute passed, and the stoneware and utensils continued to sound, but not one word passed between the diners.

Yes, sometimes, silence could be golden.


WC: 287
Prompt 6/11 - Daily Flash - This had better be good.