Chalk Coffee | Short Story |

Oh what a day. My toes felt like they were digging out of my shoes and wouldn't stop till they hit China. Fiona's father Mr. Chalk. The grizzled old war vet certainly wasn't an enjoyable company in the better part of 3 years I've been dating Fiona. Always giving me the “stink” face as Fiona calls it from his chair. Not a soul was allowed on that damn old chair. From his hard case of PTSD he was a inconstant man and had many operations take place in his home at night. Luckily, not involving real fire arms for his wife Kat always had the key to the safe. He nearly broke my nose after yelling at me like a recruit from boot camp and saying I was out of line. Now don't get me wrong, this old man long out of his prime doesn't scare me. I just find it'd be better if I didn't knock out my fiance's father.

I was now sitting across from him in Diana's diner, and I told him of our plans to get married.

“So what do you think Mr. Chalk? I love her more then anything. You must know the feeling.”

As I explained our planned trip to San Francisco his cold stare developed from simple shock to a boiling rage; nearly bursting the veins pulsing on his forehead. This was going pretty much as well as I expected and it wasn't long before he couldn't hold his rage. Without his eyes leaving their stare into my soul he lifted his full cup. He took a big swig and burned his tongue. He then slammed the cup into the nice wood varnished table. The base of the cup and the handle separated and his hand finished its journey bashing into the table. Splashing streaming hot coffee all over him. He was In such a rage I wondered if the coffee would boil off his skin. The waitress on her way to our table to refill my cup nearly dropped the pot and let out a small shriek. Surely not the last shriek she was to let out today. The rest of the old man's cup rolled off the table and shattered on the ground. The crack was the last noise around besides my own breathing as the entire Diner had been silenced and I felt all eyes on us. A cold sweat covered my body and my hands began quivering, ready to strike. Was I going to have a brawl with this old man? It surely wasn't far off from my day dreams of beating him. With all his military bullshit and mistreatment of Fiona and her mother. Had it been an ordinary day maybe: Have a few rounds of me hurting my knuckles on his square jaw until his old heart caught up to him and the unavoidable cops escorting us out. My thoughts were interrupted by him slapping his other hand on the table and coming to his feet. I felt pain in my nose as it remembered the last time he was this mad. Now how was I to begin? Thoughts of past imaginary fights filled my head as I took slow breaths.

My thoughts were again interrupted. The green Mercedes parked across the street erupted into a colossal explosion. The bursting windows threw glass all around as the flames reached towards freedom from their cage. The front left tire launched toward the diner and smashed against the large glass wall. Splashing glass all over the front tables. The tire rolled past our table and tapped the edge of our waitresses heel and fell on it's side. The tire seemingly awoke her from her shock as she began screaming and slammed into the kitchen door. Everyone else awoke and filled the building with a roar of terror as they flooded towards us and the back of the diner. Both kitchen doors would not budge as the bodies bashed into them. Locked? Oh no… The beast of warfare was shaken awake as the old man flipped our table over and pulled me down behind it.

Gun barrels inched out of the kitchen serving window and lead shredded the Diner. Puff from inside the chairs shot out like confetti around the room filling the air. Bodies were thrown like rag dolls, picked up by lead hands. The ones in back of line now turned and sprinted towards the front of the building. As the last few survivors made it to the glass window darkly dressed figures rounded the corners of the building and began firing. Me and Mr. Chalk watched as the innocent people were massacred in front of us. Slowly the raging roars of heavy weaponry slowed and the firing stopped. Not a soul besides us was left in the Diner.

Cracking of glass under heavy boots broke the unnatural silence. One of the dark figures was making it's way into the Diner.

"Mr. Chalk is it? We thank you for your service!"

The guns blazed once again and shredded our table. What was left of Mr. Chalk was spewed covering my whole body. I couldn't feel a thing. Blood was filling my mouth and every breath was agonizingly more painful then the last. There was a click of an audio device and the military recording started.

“After the annual unbiased drawing of the Population Protection Act of year 2235 your city has been selected to save the human race. As you take your last breaths think of the great sacrifice you have taken to save our great country. We thank you for your attitude towards the greater good. This message is sponsored by Coca-cola. Drink a glass of freedom today!”