Fasten
A man is sitting in a restaurant.
He is a member of the Tandoori Chicken clan in Please Have Your Ticket Ready, the capital of the single biggest nation, or perhaps one should say kingdom, on the planet How I Hate That Sun Over There.
His name is Fasten Your Seatbelt. He doesn't smoke, but this is not because smoking is forbidden, because it isn't. Wearing suits is, though, so nobody does. This is because there is a war going on. Wars tends to be about killing people, and doing so wearing dinner suits is quite unacceptable.
Fasten Your Seatbelt is a wealthy and well-known man on the planet, and one of the more important ones. He is the one who decides which members of the clan goes into war and not. He decides what weapons to use in warfare, the most popular and effective at the moment being last years crop of failed mustard. Mustard, as everyone know, is a plant that grows extremely quickly, from seed into full bloom in a matter of one minute and three seconds, after which it should be harvested at once or it will turn into apples. The apples from last years failed crop are now being used to throw at the enemy. With much success, it must be added. The Tandoori Chicken Clan have won several strategic outposts the last few days.
But tonight Faster Your Seatbelts is not thinking about this at all. Tonight is his night off. He is sitting in a restaurant waiting for a rather nice dinner. We will not go into detail about what this dinner consists of, except explain that to him it will taste very nice. To you, it wouldn't. We will leave it at that. We'd stay away from the toilet in this particular restaurant, if we were you, but we won't even pretend to be.
He is smoking a delicate cigar, enjoying all of it in deep, slow breaths, while looking around the restaurant, taking it in. People are eating food, as are their wont in restaurants. People are chatting with their mouths full of food. Some people are making rather annoying noises while doing so. But it's all part of a night on the town, and Fasten enjoys it all.
He feels someone's gaze in his back. He turns and sees a man standing in the entrance door looking at him. Fasten is too far gone in cigar smoke and alcohol to notice that it is a look of haste and importance. Besides, it is his night off, and he will do all he can to pretend ignorance of anything at all.
Later tonight, although he doesn't know this himself yet, he will get very, very drunk, and he will be staggering around in dark streets, singing loudly to himself and anybody that would care to listen. Then people will be laughing at him behind his back, pointing their feathery fingers at him and whispering that he is very, very drunk. The next morning he will be feeling very sorry for himself, but a positive outcome is that he calls in sick and takes the day off.
The man is naked but for an umbrella whose function is to hide his more private parts. They are hidden by feathers anyway, so they wouldn't be visible, but that's not the point - it's all about pride.
The man does not walk toward him. However, he nods his head slightly, gesturing Fasten to join him by the entrance door. Fasten snorts loudly, then turns around in a manner he hopes tell the stranger that to Fasten he is less than nothing. Fasten pretends to be very interested in what goes on on stage in the opposite end of the restaurant. He does not know how unbelievably stupid he looks, because the stage is empty.
Fasten pretends to be checking his watch. For a long time.
Fasten takes lengthy sip of his drink.
He looks into the air nonchalantly.
The air looks back at him.
Fasten ignores it.
He pretends to drop something on the floor, then looks around under the table for a minute.
His rather bizarre behaviour is drawing some attention from people sitting nearby. They are pointing at him. This isn't going according to the plan. Nobody should be pointing yet. Who the hell do they think they are?
Fasten pretends to find the thing he pretended to loose on the floor.
When he stands up, he slams the back of his head into the table, toppling it over. My drink, he thinks as it is spilt all over the floor.
Someone taps him on his shoulder. He spins around, but so fast he can't stop in time and has to spin around again to face the waiter standing behind him, or now in front of him. The world spins several times in front of his eyes while he is convinced he himself is standing perfectly still. He is in fact wrong. The world is as still as ever, but he is swaggering, threatening to fall over. People are trying hard not to laugh.
"Yooo hafff a aviiizzitur." The waiter must surely drunk, thinks Fasten. He replays the last sentence in his head, twice. "Yohafavezitur." "Yoho! Haftalavifta?"
"Uk," says Fasten. "Ek?"
The waiter grabs him on his shoulder and points at the door. The stranger is still gesturing him to join him. He looks like a B-movie being played over and over.
He staggers towards the door. The world reels. He stumbles and lands head first onto the nearest table. Food and drink creates an impressive battlefield on the floor, but he isn't hungry at the moment so he leaves it alone.
With considerable help from the waiter he gets to his feet again and takes his time getting to the door and the stranger.
The stranger lashes out his right fist.
Everything goes black.
He wakes up some time later, feeling very sorry for himself, but not for the reasons we initially outlined. All the plans between drinking too much and waking up were cancelled.
All of him is hurting, and doing a remarkably good job at it. He squints and notices the man standing in a shadowy corner.
"No Smoking," says the man gravely.
Fasten Your Seatbelts thinks about this. "Uhm, I'm not smoking."
"No, my name is No Smoking."
"Oh. Fasten Your Seatbelts."
"I know."
"Somehow I'm not surprised," says Fasten.
"It's time," says the man.
Fasten freezes in shock. No! Not yet. Not now! He was having such a good time. "What? Already?"
"Yes," says the man. "Your mother is waiting. You should learn to listen to your mother and do as she tells you."
"But-"
"No buts and no ifs. Now."
"I-"
A woman's voice is shouting down the stairs. The man points at him, then the door and the stairs. He rises and walks up into the kitched.
He sits down by the kitchen table, looks at the food, and says, "Yuck."
His mother kisses him on the cheek. "Now, now, dear, eat your food. Think about all the poor people in the world." And Fasten wants to give them his food.