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Dash a theory about where the rules of man did and did not apply. For example, they did apply in shopping malls and on beaches. They did not apply in amusement parks, corn fields, and buffets. Someday, he’ll have to share this theory with Marshall to avoid ending up in situations like this again.
Dash had Janet seemed to be thinking something along the same lines because she put one finger under the elastic of her above the pants underwear and ‘thwapped’ it against her hip; a sure sign she had something on her mind but not sure how to express it. Maybe she didn’t want to hurt Marshall’s feelings, after all, he’d seemed quite pleased with himself for finding a way to combine taking his girl out for her birthday and investigating the new buffet that had opened up at Eerie Mall. Thankfully, Dash has no such pretensions.
“You could have taken us anywhere in Eerie.” He said, setting his plate down on the counter in front of the soups, “And you picked a buffet with reviews so mediocre that it makes the Dr. Quinn movies feel bad?”
“That’s...a timely reference for you.” Said Marshall, using a spoon to agitate tomato soup before deciding to pass on it.
“Yeah, unlike you I’m trying to impress people.”
“Com’ on, you think that we can take Harley someplace nice?” Dash didn’t know why Marshall was taking Harley, Simon and him at all but it was ingrained into him that free food was not to be turned down. Harley was a tiny tornado at the best of times and if there were votes for kids in school he was pretty sure the baby anti-christ would be voted ‘most likely to accidentally destroy town’.Tuning in half an ear he heard Janet talking to Harley, who was already halfway towards the Italian section (read: pasta and pizza).
“Harley Schwarzenegger Holmes, when you get to the table I better see three kinds of vegetables on that plate.”
“Do French fries count?”
“No, and neither do baked potatoes with cheese and bacon, potato skins or corn on the cob with more butter than corn.”
“Fine.” The kid sulked but kept moving towards his food of choice, ignoring the other patrons trying to maintain a consistent line around the table.
“That goes for you too, Marshall,” Janet said, a moment later as she delivered a scoop of peas onto her plate.
“Janey?” Marshall said, affronted.
“Three kinds of vegetables.” She said, “A balanced diet.”
“This is a buffet, we’re supposed to eat only tatter tots and potato skins.” Marshall protested.
“It’s my birthday.” She said, and Marshall gave in, reluctantly spooning corn onto his plate.
“Do I need more vegetables?” Simon spoke up, probably for the first time since they arrived. Janet looked at him, his plate, and back to him. Dash could make out a salad on the side of his plate that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere.
“Simon I don’t say this often, and I truly mean it fewer times than that. I trust you. I trust you to know what’s an appropriate meal.” Seemingly pleased with this, Simon too agitated the soup as he arrived at it, and then agreed with Janet and Marshall and passed it by.
“How about me?” He asked jokingly. Janet drew her eyebrows together and said
“Dash, on your plate is peas, corn, green beans, and asparagus. You don’t need me to tell you to get more vegetables.” Dash looked at his plate, a little surprised. He hadn’t realized what he was putting on his plate; he’d just been grabbing some from everything he passed that was in a bay marie with a spoon.
“Oh, yeah.” He said as they moved forward and to fit in Dash too agitated the tomato soup but did not take any. Maybe it was some kind of politeness thing that he just didn’t know about. As they moved forward and he waited his turn for the fried rice, he took the time to examine the other patrons in the buffet. Some he would expect to find there, The vapid and shallow Nick, with his equally vapid and shallow girlfriend along with (of course) the vapid and shallow Eddie and his equally vapid and shallow boyfriend. Simon had dated one of them once, but Dash didn’t remember which one, nor did he care to try and remember.
Interdimensional refugee and local loner Rodney Taylor was sitting in the back with a sketch pad, more engrossed with his drawing than the food.
Some boy Janet had dated in high school who apparently said something that offended her so much she took it to the school's joke of a guidance counselor and had him expelled. He was trying very hard not to look like he was looking at her.
There was also some that he didn’t, Mayor Chisel, for one. He was sharing a slice of chocolate cake with a man whose name Dash didn’t know, deeply invested in the conversation. Date night?
“He’s up to something,” Marshall said, conspiratorially.
“Yeah, his dessert by the look of it,” Simon replied, in a tone warning him not to start shit.
He turned away from the floor to get himself a helping of fried rice that seemed to have just a bit too much potato in it for comfort. He looked up from the rice just in time to see a hand with a tattoo in the nearly unreadable script come down on top of Simon’s. he looked at Janet about to tell her to let the boy eat what he wanted when Simon spoke up in his own defense.
“You said you trusted me to eat a well-balanced meal!” Simon complained but sounded like he already knew this was coming.
“Surstromming is not part of a well-balanced meal.” She replied and whatever arguments Dash may have had died on his tongue. Only in Eerie would a buffet serve fermented fish. He cared about Simon a lot but he was pretty sure that it was impossible to care about someone enough that you let them breathe fermented fish breath in his car.
“You’re just stubborn, Janet.” He said but didn’t try to go for the sealed container again. “You’d like it if you gave it a shot.”
“Remarkably Simon I believe that you once told me the same thing about durian and we all know how that turned out.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know Marshall was allergic?” He complained, this time going for some kind of fried something. “And our house smelled like an oil leak for a month!” She said, before taking the spoon from him to put some on her plate as well. That Dash remembered because they basically had to have the place fumigated and Marshall practically lived in the office for like a month, but Dash was sure he was just being overdramatic.
“Harley! Cornbread does not count as vegetables!” Janet hollered, and Harley pulled a face, sliding two of his small cornbread loaves back to whence they’d came. Dash noticed Marshall’s face fall, he’d probably intended to try the same trick but hadn’t accounted for Janet’s eagle eyes. Simon chuckled good-naturedly and when Harley looked at him for help he responded with a shrug that clearly telegraphed ‘you heard the woman’ at him. Harley was also eyeing the Surstromming but didn’t seem game enough to attempting invoking the share wrath of Janet and Dash and didn’t attempt to open the container.
Noticing movement from the corner of his eyes, he turned to see Nick and Eddie coming towards them. If Dash didn’t know better, he might have thought that they were attached at the hip or potentially two people sharing a single brain. Perhaps, if such a thing could exist, a reverse Melaine Monroe. But tragically, there were two of them, and they were making a beeline to their little group. Janet tossed him a look, and Dash carefully arranged himself between the men and Simon. Simon for his part didn’t seem too phased by their arrival. If anything, he looked a bit annoyed to be pulled away from the calamari he was considering.
“Janet.” One of them (Nick? Eddie? Fuck it. Nick.) says. “I see you busted out your nicest tank top for this occasion.”
“To bad you couldn’t be bothered to find your nicest bra.”
The two high fived each other like the dumbasses they were. Despite the multiple decorative bra straps she was wearing, Dash assessed that no. She was not wearing a bra. Much to the delight of him and most of Eerie’s male population who knew she was out of their league. If Dash had to guess, he’d say she was out of Marshall’s league as well, and if he was smarter he’d show he knew that and taken her somewhere nice. Whatever. There was about to be a verbal war of the worlds between Simon’s almost mother and his ex-boyfriend.
“What? You just walk up to random women at buffets and insult them now? Smooth.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Looks like you dodged a fucking bullet on that one, Simon.” Simon folded his arms over his chest.
“What do you guys want?” It seemed to Dash that they actually didn’t know what they wanted and were just cruising for trouble like a couple of dumb fucks.
“Came to say hello.” Eddie (or, Dash thought this one was Eddie. Could just as easily have been Nick and he’d have been none the wiser.)
“Hello,” Simon said, annoyed. “What do you want?”
“We...I was wondering if you were up to anything on Friday. We could go for drinks.” Said the first one, so that one was probably Eddie. Eddie was the one Simon had dated, wasn’t he? Maybe it was Nick the whole time. Maybe Dash should have listened to Simon rather than Janet and Syndi’s plans to get rid of him.
“I can’t. I’m seeing my boyfriend.” He said, deadpan and seriously. Dash had heard many things about the mystery man in Simon’s life but had never actually met him. In fact, none of them (to his knowledge) had met him. Not even Marshall and there was pretty much nothing that they kept from each other. So there was a good reason it was a secret, though that didn’t stop speculation among his friends as to who it could possibly be.
“Com’ on Nick. I told you he wasn’t cool anymore.” (Vindication. That one was Eddie.) He said as if Simon has ever cared one ounce for coolness. Janet just rolled her eyes and wandered over to see what Marshall was doing.
“I’d skip the calamari,” Simon said, as Dash went for the tongs. Like the conversation that had just occurred had not in fact occurred. Dash wasn’t sure if that was a weirdness thing or if that was just Simon trying to steer the discussion away from his significant other. He didn’t really blame him. If he had a boyfriend then he wouldn’t be inviting speculation from his conspiracy prone best friend either.
“Why?” He asked, glancing at it.
“A few years ago, the old man took us to a buffet. He had calamari and got food poisoning so bad that me and Harls had to spend a week at the Teller house.” Dash actually remembered that, but he’d thought that the Tellers were finally just adopting the Holmes boys. He had no idea that Mr. Holmes had ever spent any length of time with his sons, “Don’t look at me like that.” Simon complained.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some charity case. I’m trying to do you a solid.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Dash said, and then decided to give the calamari a miss. In fact, he decided to give all the seafood a miss, his desire to not get food poisoning overruling his desire to gorge himself on free food.
“We could have gone to get sushi.” Janet said, “You could have taken me to the Bait Shop and Sushi Bar.” She was practically leaning on Marshall, and he was tracing the outline of a tattoo of a bird and a key on her shoulder. He surmised that their relationship did not seem to be in any significant danger.
“We’re banned, remember?” He replied, before putting something Dash can’t make out onto her place.
“No, you’re banned. My ban was only for five years.”
“I didn’t know it had a time limit.”
“Yeah, I found out when I went to grovel for my job back.”
“Sorry for trying to stop you committing half cannibalism.” He retorted.
“At the time, I was pissed but in retrospect...It was kinda fucked up that we were serving fish people to the general public.”
At the time, Dash had been pissed as well. Not because he cared one way or another about Janet’s plight to buy a car, but because he’d had a good racket going with her. She’d bring him leftover sushi from work, and he’d distract Simon so she could spend time alone with her boyfriend. Of course, once said boyfriend stormed in there Soylent Green style and she dumped him, he’d had to find a new source of slightly above room temperature sushi. Thankfully, the Eerie Sushi bar and Baitshop had an opening.
“I’ve waited ten years to hear that.” He said and stuck a piece of capsicum in his mouth. Usually, he’d be trying to think up something to say rather than the third wheel behind them but it was Janet’s birthday and given how almost impressively tolerant she was most of the year it was only fair to cut some slack tonight of all nights.
“Harley!” Simon squeaked, “Coca beans are not a vegetable!”
Apparently, the tiny antichrist didn’t get the memo.