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But that's good, y'know, she's getting out of her shell. Being shy is like banging your head against a wall of your own making. And with the way Snacks always tries to pitch in, spouting silly things, it makes it seem her hair is red-stained.

This is you. They call you Trash because you are a piece of shit that's very good at two things; finding secrets and blackmailing. You are a waiter. You are a blondie with a manly body and a foul mouth. Any questions?

>>400994
Ask her how she feels about us, and about the devil horns sprouting from her forehead.

>>401013
We're a waiter, yes? What kind of restaurant do we work at?

>>401021

Being a waiter is really easy if you don't give a shit; it's all about the show and the nerves. You go to a dinner, do the whole ritual, smile, put on a cute face, remember the name of every fucker on the table, then curse under your breath when no tips.

Sometimes, it gets too shallow.

Last thing you do is get the leftovers, walk through the aisle to the kitchen, then drop the dish at Snack's. She's the dishwasher. She's aiming to become a chef, so she comes on her off days to help in the kitchen and watch them doing work. For free. You wonder if she has any hobbies.
You slowly leave the half-eaten pork-chop ribs in front of Snacks, who nods at you and takes the spares into a silver dish hidden near the cellar. She gets a bit startled once she raises her eyes and finds you looking at her. You ask Snacks how she feels about you, straightforwardly so she can take it as a joke; she gets flustered, instead.

"I-I think you are very kind Tr-...!"

She cuts herself off, like suddenly freezing. This girl... she can call you Trash all you want. You grab one of her horns and caress it, as you ask her about them.

"Oh, those? They are fake! Weird, right?"

Hmm.

>>401013
A blaring piece of shit that's somehow holding itself togueter, like a tower of cards besides the broken window that is reality. Other than that, it has a grill, and does sushi on Saturdays.

Do you have any starting objectives in mind, OP? Like something to get the ball rolling? I mean, we could always do lewd things to Snacks on top of the dishwasher...

>>401637
Try.

>>401105
Remove the horns, we don't need no fake shit in our classy establishment..

>>402943

Carefully, yet surely, you take both of her white horns from her head; the blonde hair was hiding a bandwith. She stares at you, somewhat in confusion; smiling sweetly, you tell her you'd rather not have her fired over them.

"Oh." She downcasts her eyes a little, her voice a bit low.

>>401953
Shit. I'm too late. Balls to the walls though, can we try,

>"Are these fake?" Cup her boobs

>>403184
Shit man, you gotta be classy about it.
>Ask to read her shirt.

OP is currently watching X-Men on a shitty, small screen with some niggers. It's awesome.

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>>403196

You can't help but think she looks lovely looking like that at that like the floor, doing her best to conceal her itching awkwardness... and you can't help wanting to see more of it, either.

"Are there fake?" you ask, feigning surprise, as both your hands rest on her... small, round breasts. And
it's
so
soft
you can't help but let off a low, subtle whistle. You remember about the whole thing, then; restaurant, waiter, dishes, you raise your eyes at Snacks; hers are open wide.
She laughs; warmly, then pushes gently pushes you away. You let her.

"H-hey...! What are you doing!"

>>403196

"I was trying to read your shirt." You reply, bobbing your head quickly back and forth.

You hear someone scream your name. Oh, right. Work.

>>403409
do work hard so you can talk to her faster

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>>404804

Can't talk much to Snacks if you get fired, right? You wink at her then head out without as much of a single word, through the aisle to the saloon.

That's when you remember... it's Sunday.
Sunday morning. Rain is falling. Steal some covers, share some skin. The charm is broken into a million pieces, then, like the porcelain dish that shattered into the head of a bald diner and covered him, from head to toe, in burning ravioli. You walk past and whistle, as baldy buries his fist in the waiters face, towards the fancy bar near which your tables are located. There are seven in a row along the wall, the last one next to a big window. FIve taken. One empty. And one with new diners looking at their menues. Time to go back and get the courtesy bread and cheese.

---------------------------------------------------------------

...Took a while. Though, if you can't take a break during rush hours on a Sunday, then you can't even think during a Saturday night, so you get to still feel your legs at least. You could only steal a few glances from Snacks every come and go, but now costumers dwindle and only two of your tables are taken.

Also, your turn ends in two hours; right at midday!

>>400994
I walk away
I'm not letting my freinds ask "How's Snacks"

>>407092

"So how them Snacks doing, Trashy?"

Too late. Too fucking late. You got everyone by the balls in the restaurant for whenever you need/want/whim something, but This Guy, this black guy with a giga-afro, has you. He's one of the waiters.

"Yo Trashy, you deaf nigga?"

You slowly turn around, making a point of seeming as annoyed as you can. By how you look on his enormous, round sunglasses you can tell you did fine... even if it doesn't help in the least.

"Spit it." you ask, firmly.

"Ay ay negro, it smells like em paranoia here." He raises both open palms in front of him, terribly fegining surprise. "Just wanna know, y'know? Just know."

"And?"

He smiles. God. Fucking. Dammit.

"Need sum help round here, kinda, yeah." The tall negro says, crossing his arms.

"With?!"

He points towards a table; a giant, bulking bald man is channeling his inner aura by squatting another one of the waiters, who just can't stop screaming... at one of This Guy's table.

You stare at the negro in awe; he shrugs.

FUCK.

>>407187
I instinctively shoot him

not sure what's going on, but it'll probably work out

>>407940
Giant bald man is doing mystical squats in proper form using one of the waiters as the bar, on one of This Guy's tables. As stated, while you know everyone's secrets and have them by the balls, This Guy has you by the ovaries.
Also who you gonna shoot, nignog?

>>408055
Snacks

>>408200

"Aaaaawww ye- hey, what the fuck?!"

As he raises both arms, you leave This Guys to his own devices. The backlash will suck; hard, but it can hardly be worst than fighting with giga-baldy over there, so fuck him.

And besides, you got a Snacks on the kitchen, right?

She's cutting a beef into a lot of tiny pieces over a dish as you approach, humming with her eyes fixed on the table.

You consider shooting her. Yet, you aint sure what that means. After all, you don't have a god damned gun, but you can either summon a big fork, a big knife, or a big spoon or demand because magic and fuck you if you try to make sense out of this.

>>408289
More lewd things to snacks. Shoot that ass with my hand. Also can we get a better description of snacks?

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>>Also can we get a better description of snacks?

This'll work. She just loves those pajamas. Just picture her wearing a long blue shirt, jeans, and an apron.

>>408403

You think it over. Like, the best half of a second. Until she turns around and you slap her ass, startling her, from across the long, metallic desk where the waiters leave the dishes. Then you realize you took a moan out of her and now the folks at the kitchen are looking at the both of you intently.

As for Snacks, she's blushing, frozen in time as she looks at you with her mouth half open. It seems this wasn't on her script.

Pat her head

>>408448
Okay OP. I got questions:
What are the opening and closing times of the establishment?
Do we (the protagonist) have any particular hobbies, skills or capabilities that may be of use to us knowing?
Can we ask "snacks" why she was wearing fake horns? Was she trying to pull off some sort of furry cosplay?
What is "snacks" real name and what relationship do we have with her outside of work?

>>408448
>>408448
Quit our job on the spot and join the Army,
Nothing bad will happen.

AIGHT, lets see.

>>409004

>>What are the opening and closing times of the establishment?

10am and usually 12pm-1am, but with restaurants you never know; if there are still costumbers, everyone has to suck it up and keep going. At least there's tips.

>>Do we (the protagonist) have any particular hobbies, skills or capabilities that may be of use to us knowing?

a) Great at finding their secrets and using those for blackmail.
b) You can summon either a giant fork, a gaint knife, or a giant spoon. Usually the spoon gets the job done without anybody bleeding to death.
c) You live and die to prank people. When you aren't fucking with someone for shits and giggles, you are thinking of ways and victims.
d) Pretty much emotionally numb; very few things scare you, sadden you, or make you happy. Pranking and being a nuisance gets the job done, usually.
e) Good at fighting and sexily biting people in the ear. Everybody at the restaurant is already wary, and knows when you're coming.

>>Can we ask "snacks" why she was wearing fake horns? Was she trying to pull off some sort of furry cosplay?

You can ask, my fellow and respectable black american man.

>>What is "snacks" real name and what relationship do we have with her outside of work?

Alina. No relationship whatsoever for now, she started working like a week ago, and you pretty much are her only acquaintance here.

>>408983

You slowly, slooowly reach your hand towards the messy golden cloud that's Snacks hair, as she's still frozen in time along the rest of the niggers at the kitchen; then it goes down, up and down, to her head.

>>409569

Then you turn around without as much of a word, leave the restaurant, take a bus, and join the Army.

"OH MY GOD," spits the drill sergeant, along a LOT of white foam, "OH MY FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!"

You close your eyes and wince, the gesture shared by the guys in green at your left also drenched in saliva.

"YOU--- LITTLE SHITS." He manages, still foaming. "MY FUCKING GOD. J-just... JUST HOW MANY OF YOU JOINED BECAUSE OF THOSE SHITTY /GAMES/?!"

Amidst the calm, long silence, a whimper is heard. Then sobbing; everyone turns towards a white, slim guy with fingerless black gloves. The drill sergeant walks towards him, you close your eyes the second his shadow covers you. Then you keep your eyes closed, as the boy cries, while the soldier does bench presses in flawless form using him as the bar.

Yeah, nothing bad could happen.

The toothbrush snaps as you clean the toilet. The upper half swiming along a brown piece of shit. It couldn't be yours, not even after a whole week worth of tears and burritos. You sigh, then smash the rest on the floor, your eyelids almost swallowing your irises up above. Someone knocks on the door behind you. You open it; it's a black guy, with squarely glasses and a big white smile. He greets you with a long "heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!".

"What do you want?

He shrugs. "Wanna get outta here?"

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>>410659
Aight, lets go with the faggot.

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>>410681

Fuck yes you want to, you don't even know why you are here in the first place. He nods sagely, suddenly wearing a big purple wizard hat with stars, as his white teeth sparkles under the white, flickering light of the bathroom.

"Aight." He starts, taking a scroll from his back. "Here's the plan."

You take a closer look.

RIGHT...

>>410750
What...
The..
FUCK is this BULLSHIT PLAN

Walk right up the the drill sergeant and tell him you're fucking right off back to the restaurant.

>>410750
...Go to your friendly barrack psychologist and fake mental illness to get an honorable discharge, before going back to the restaraunt to get your job back.
Do keep the uniform though, so you can say you're a "veteran" to other people for respect.

>>410858

You just... stare, at the map. No raised eyebrows, no cynical smirk... no comical relief. You walk past the nigga magus and exit the bathroom, then walk all the way past half-naked recruits playing Yu Gi Oh towards the drill sergeant, who's still using the same guy as a bar but this time for deadlifts. You let yourself enjoy his exemplar form a few minutes, as the poor kid goes up and down moaning. Then clear your throat.

"I want off this ride."

He politely lets his bar on the ground, before doing proper stretchs using the wall as support. The drill sergeant takes his whey powder from under his bed.

"No." He responds while mixing the whey with milk on his orange glass. He maintains eye contact as he shakes it with both hands, but there's no enmity in his eyes. You sigh, almost in desperation.

"Come on. What do you want?" you may have sounded a bit defeated there.

"To workout." He states; then stands, and resumes his lifts along the dim sobbings. You know better than to bother a man doing his squats, so you head out.

>>410954

The man in the white uniform with the stethoscope stares in a serious and professional manner as you struggle to deliver a word across the table.

"I see. You want to go home. To mama."

Your veins glow as you show teeth and nod, eyes slightly unfocused. If only for a small second, he puffs his cheeks. Yeah, you can do this.

"To mama... to the ravioli." He echoes you, as you wave your hands around without focus. "To the tasty ravioli."

"Mama." You let some saliva slip from the corner. "Mama."

Suddenly a powerful ring blasts across the barracks and you rise, scream, then kick everything until you feign a seisure by shaking on the floor and crying. As you glance at him, you notice that the barracks psychologist's is having trouble breathing as his face is red as a tomato because he can't stop laughing in silence, barely holding on to his chair. You scream "MAMA!!".

-----------------------------------------------------

The bus stays behind you just a while longer, then reveals the restaurant by the shore as it leaves. It is a piece of gastronomic shit, yeah; but the background was always breath-taking.

Welcome home. It has been a week.

>>411107
Walk like a smug fuck back into the restaurant and tell everyone you were wounded and had to be sent home

>>411155

>>411155

You don't kick the door out of an odd feeling of respect for the card-board restaurant, but you /do/ slam it against the wall, the sound enough to make everyone turn to look. Then, you enter. In your military uniform. With an eyepatch. As you walk among the crowd sitting by their tables, towards the aisle to the kitchen, you catch by the corner of your eye a tiny kid dropping spaguetti from his open mouth like a yellow waterfall.

YEAH NIGGA.

>>411171
Now then, go back to Snacks and ask her the pen-ultimate question: why did she wear the horns? Followed by the ultimate question: will she go on a date with us?

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>>411246

Not giving a fuck overall has quite a few benefits, besides not giving a fuck about your boss, the Cross Boss, yelling at you as his voice fades into the distance. You glance at yourself in the small mirror in the aisle the waiters use to look gay-fancy; and you look nothing less than fucking manly. At least for a blonde girl. It's like the beach got into you. You usually walk with a hump, but this time... this time...
And there she is. Splitting the remains of a sad looking fish into tiny little pieces, to give for free and keep the mood high. As she smiles. Her tasty smile; one of the few things that still makes you feel.
But it's not enough to take you aback.

"Why do you wear the horns, Snacks?"

She stops cutting the fish. And slowly, but surely, rises her brown eyes at you, then her face starts turning. It's like she wants to say something, to scream. But she can't let herself, and you know it. So... she smiles, and settles for a dim, polite

"Hi!"

much to your dissapointment. But you bet. There just has to be something behind that smile.

"Why the horns?"

She freezes, then laughs dimly.

"Sorry! I know you don't want me fired." She lightens up, her smile a bit more bright as she lifts her face. "But, I spoke with the boss, and I'm in the kitchen..."

You take them off gently; none of you break the stare as you do.

"It's almost insulting! You cross your arms while pouting as you tilt your head forward, closing your eye. You wait a little, to let the drama sink, then open your eye from below. "Snacks is just too beutiful as she is."

The crimson blush on her frozen face tells you it worked. She laughs, taken aback.

"I-It's just... I think I'd rather look a bit silly. I like when people feel at ease with me."

"I want to feel at ease with you." You press on, resting your elbows on the table as you lay your face between your balled up fists. "How about a date?"

She blinks a few times, downcasting her eyes a bit. "W-with you?"

You just laugh warmly. Everybody is staring and you know and you just don't, can't, give the best half of a fuck.

"...ok." Snacks hazards. She winces when people starts clapping and cheering. Odd; you didn't pay anyone to do it. You finally turn your eyes towards them, and they are so many you wonder how many are at the saloon and if it's already on fire again; This Guys nods at you among the crowd. Fuck.

Anyway, you got a date with Snacks and you are going to tell her all about how you got this scar... in the next chapter of Anon and Waifus! We will set on the table anon's romantic capabilities, and pray to the gods of the sea it doesn't fuck up enough to leave a crater at the beach.

See ya!

>>411376
We've turned into such a fucking edge Lord

Touched a girl's asshole, joined the army, left the army by pretending we had rabies, got home, ruined the girl's furry cosplay, asked that girl out, she said yes.

2 edgy 4 me m8

>>412161

Nigga you reading the whole thing wrong. It's a fucking disaster, you pretty much forced a shy girl into a date.

>>412161
>>412220
I count these as a success,
and you can't spell success without
S U C C

>>412225
I'm really hopping to see what anons will try when they actually give a shit.
It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

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>>412245
If you want a shit, I'll give you one.

Here.

>>412161
Well it didn't help that I was the only one posting responses

>>412328
I guess there just arn't enough people in this thread.
And not a lot of people seem to want to join.

I recommend that OP wait until this thread dies, wait another day or two and then start a new thread.
This time by waiting until the replys start to pile up and then start the quest.

Patience is key on a board like this.
Don't go continueing the quest as soon as someone replies.
Newer anons won't get a chance to catch up.

>>412245
I'm still sad that we didn't shoot snacks

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>>412341
From a questing stand point this completely makes sense... but I, for one, just want to sit down, yawn hard, and write cute girls doing cute things! :D

>>412328
Those worked dandy though.

>>413258
I used to say "specify" to my brother a lot before he buried his hand in my stomach.

FURTHERMORE, DATE COMING SOON.
Taking out the trash and grabbing some snacks first.