Lawdamercy!

I wouldn’ta believed if I hadn’t seent it with my own two eyes. Lawdamercy, they was upta no damn good out on the patio last night at work. So bad that I had boss man put up this here sign. He looked at me sorta funny, but he’s learnt to listen when I speaks up.

They was drinkin’ all sortsa booze—liquor, wine, beer, and they got some kinda drunk right here in public. I never seen such nonsense in all my days. What made it even worse was that the waitstaff and busboys was fraternizin’ with the guests, sneakin’ shotsa liquor and all kindsa tomfoolery.

And you shoulda seen them people at the table, actin’ like they dint have no raisin’ atall. Probly looks down they noses at folks like me that dint get to finish school an’ has to wash dishes in two restaurants to scrape by in this high-priced world.

Anyways, them bus boys was slackin’ off. My dishpit was empty half an hour til closin’ time, and I weren’t gonna truck with bein’ here half the damn night runnin’ racksa plates an’ glasses, so I shucked off my rubber apron and put on one a them white line cook aprons ta go out in the front a the house.

Dining room was ‘bout empty, ‘cept for some folks at the bar. They was behavin’—Tom don’t truck with no foolishness at his bar. He’da put that crowd on the patio out on they ears without thinkin’ twice. An’ we dint need no additional security with Tom back there. Wouldn’t nobody with a lick a sense cross him.

When I looked out the door to the patio, they was all sittin’ round the big table, toastin’ evathing under the sun. It was mainly a bunch of women, but they sho’ weren’t no ladies. When I say they was witches, I means it. They had them fortune tellin’ cards out on the table, readin’ each others’ secrets, then they cleared some space on that table and put what I thought was a Scrabble board on the table, but lawdamercy, I ain’t never been more wrong in my life.

‘Round about then, the bus boy I calls Lightnin’ cause he’s fast all the way ’round sees me and waves me out there. I calls the other one Christmas ’cause he so slow.

Since it turnt out they wasn’t holdin’ up my dish pit, I don’t give ‘em no more grief than usual.

I sees that board ain’t a Scrabble board and asks about it. “Y’all ain’t about ta play Jumanji, is you?”

Them witchy women laugh and tell me it ain’t Jumanji.

“This is a Ouija board, not a game,” says the one who looks to be the leader a the pack, givin’ me the smoky eyes.

“What’s it do? Do ya eat off it, like them meat and cheese trays they call shark coochie boards?” I ain’t got time for this foolishness. I could be takin’ out the trash or sweepin’ the floor in the kitchen. Somethin’ more productive than this.

Smoky eyes holds up this big ol’ guitar pick with a window in it, holds it up over the board. Durndest thing, ever’ last one of ‘em reaches in to get a finger on that guitar pick.

“Come on, Willie, get a hand in! Commune with the spirits with us,” says one a the waitresses, the one I calls Sweet Cheeks.

“Lawdy, Sweet Cheeks! I don’t need no spirit commodes or nothin’ else. My mama kept the front do’ painted blue to keep the haints away.”

Smoky eyes starts chantin’ some kinda gobblety-gook nonsense. Then asks who’s with them. I be damned iffen that guitar pick didn’t start movin’ and kinda pausin’ here and there. Sweet Cheeks wrote the letters down on her waitress pad ever’ time it stopped. Like ghosts ain’t too busy takin’ care a they own bidness to be spellin’ messages to drunk folks.

Finally, it stopped movin’ and Smoky Eyes asks Sweet Cheeks what she got.

“Who’s Lou Cipher?” She says, soundin’ it out like a little kid.

Ever’body’s eyes got just as big as hubcaps, and Sweet Cheeks started laughing that big ol’ belly laugh a hers. Just like her, always pullin’ a gag. It was a good’un, but temptin’ Ol’ Scratch don’t never come to no good.

“For real, who’s Doc Mundy?”

The other waitress, Smartypants says, “Oh my God, that’s that guy who’s skeleton they found in the elevator shaft back in the 90s, when they remodeled. Ask him if anyone else is here.”

That guitar pick started movin’ again, faster than befo’, and Sweet Cheeks was just a scribblin’ while them wannabe witches sat there with they arms jerkin’ around an’ they mouths hangin’ open like the loadin’ dock on truck day.

“Tell it to stop! I can’t keep up!” Sweet Cheeks sounded kinda spooked. She took her hand offa that guitar pick and said it was all kindsa names gettin’ spelt at her.

“Tara! You’re not supposed to remove your hand! It can offend the spirits!” Smoky started chantin’ double-time, wrinklin’ her eyebrows over all a that makeup on her eyes, which was screwed up all tight-like.

I don’t know if it was because of Sweet Cheeks makin’ her devil joke or for takin’ her hand away, or pure-T coincidence, but a big ol’ bolt a lightnin’ lit up the sky with a loud-ass crack. The wind whipped up somethin’ fierce, a doomsday boom of thunder kept on rumblin’, and another streak a light streaked the sky. Then that sky opened right on up and dumped a flood’s worth a rain on us. That wind blew Smoky’s board and cards right offa the patio into the street. Glasses blew offa the table onto the cement and shattered into a million pieces.

That meant there wouldn’t be no more dishes to wash tonight, so I took myself back inside to sweep and mop the kitchen. Them bus boys was gonna need my broom and dustpan to clean up the patio, and I wasn’t gettin’ stuck waitin’ on Christmas to bring my broom back.

And we ain’t havin’ no more Ouija boards on this patio.