" Melody Serves It Up " by Noillyrag

[esercito sconfitto]

MELODY SERVES IT UP.

“mmiidinkdatmmwmmnzzdarrrngtusmmm”
Harmony recoiled in disgust as her cashmere jumper was bombarded by partially masticated food particles.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full! How am I expected to understand what you are saying? Or are you going to put up sub-titles?” She reprimanded.
Melody swallowed the final cubic inch of cheese, gulped, grabbed her glass of water and rinsed the legacy down her gullet. Harmony breathed a sigh of relief, having half expected her sister to finish her performance with a flourishing gargle.
“Sorry” claimed Melody and reached across the table to flick a piece of salad which had become tangled in Harmony’s jumper. Harmony saw it coming and parried the thrust with a swift back hander.
“I think you’ve done enough for one meal.”
Melody looked hurt.
“I was only trying to help…”
“Don’t!”
Harmony looked down at the front of her top and began extracting the scraps which had become entangled in the wool.
“What were you trying to say, anyway?”
“Well, don’t look now, but I was trying to point out that the woman sitting at the table over there has been staring at us ever since we came in. And it’s not a nice stare, either. I vaguely recognise her from somewhere, but I can’t quite place it…”
Harmony knew that if this was a film or a novel she would be able to look up and see the woman’s reflection in a mirror conveniently placed on the wall to her front. But there was no wall, no mirror. The fast food outlet where they had stopped for lunch was run with economy in mind and Harmony suspected there was unlikely to be a mirror in the powder room either. They did have a powder room, didn’t they? Harmony crossed her legs. She turned to her right and looked at her shadow in the glass. By moving her head slightly, she realised that she could just see an indistinct image of the woman who must be the object of Melody’s concern.
“Um; I see what you mean. Yes, I believe I have seen her before; but where?”
“Could she be the petrol station attendant we met last week?”
“You mean the blonde?”
“I would have called her brunette, but it depends where you looked”
They smiled together at the memory of the heist they had carried out the previous week. A lone attendant, probably trying to earn enough to pay her way through college, had the misfortune to be on duty when Harmony and Melody arrived to fill up the tank on their Pontiac. Not only did they decline to pay, they took the opportunity to make a withdrawal. The efficient attendant, having emptied the cash drawer and safe, seemed to be somewhat shy about responding to the sisters’ enquiries about the colour of her underwear. Eventually it emerged that she wasn’t wearing any. Naturally suspicious, Melody had insisted the girl took her pants off to prove it.
“Oh, dear,” Harmony tutted “we can’t possibly leave you looking like that.”
And so, ever resourceful, Melody grabbed some cans of spray paint, a couple of reels of masking tape and a newspaper and prepared the assistant’s nether regions for spraying. There was some debate about the relative merits of T-Bird red and Pontiac white, but they eventually settled on Model T black. Melody wanted to add some little yellow ducks as well, but Harmony convinced her that they really did not have enough time to play games: the assistant had been very kind to them, after all, and she looked cute enough in her new pair of black panties; especially now that they had tied her to the petrol pump.
“No, it’s not her, they agreed. This one’s older.”
“Ummm. What about the lawyer we met in the mall the other day?”
“Nope”
“The flight attendant?”
More smiles.
“No, she was a blonde”
“Ah, yes!”
“Perhaps you’re imagining things”
“I don’t think so: I’ve just got a bad feeling about this. She’s still looking at us.”
“Oh, eat your salad”
Melody was about to return to her food when the waitress swept by to deliver another salad. Melody was rather taken by her uniform. The diner, trying to capture the trade of clients who wanted something other than fatty burgers, had specialised in salad dishes and had adopted the rather flamboyant name of ‘Vinaigrette’, although it had become more popularly known among its clientele as ‘Slugs R Us’. Rather unkindly so, because the diner, although rather compact, served good, wholesome food. Continuing the salad theme to the waitresses’ uniforms, the company had attired them (there were only two on duty at the present time and one of these was in the kitchen preparing food) in a garment which made them look like extras from Snow White. They wore a green top, a short skirt in a mottled green and brown fabric which would have been ideal for jungle warfare, a green taffeta petticoat, and a pixie hat. Melody was dying to know whether the waitresses wore matching panties and had already dropped her powder compact on the floor as the waitress had passed in the hope of finding out, but without success. She was on the verge of putting her leg out into the aisle to trip up the waitress on her way back to the kitchen, when a gentle kick from Harmony caused her to desist.
“Behave!” muttered Harmony.
“But I only wanted to find out…”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
Melody looked down sheepishly at her Roquefort salad and picked up her knife and fork. She glanced up again at the woman who had found the sisters so interesting. Harmony was also studying her reflection in the mirror.
“The realtor!” they hissed at each other in unison, suddenly recognising the face. The woman was dressed quite differently now compared with the last time they had seen her. Then, she had worn a smart powder blue pants suit; now she was wearing a sweater and scruffy jeans. Harmony had to glance quickly at Melody to reassure herself that her sister wasn’t wearing the same suit now. Well, it’s not true to say that that the woman was wearing the pants suit when they last saw her: in fact she had been wearing a rather expensive set of undergarments; made from a silky material, light blue with a delicate flower pattern, as Harmony recalled. The realtor’s colleague, obviously training on the job and earning a lower salary, had worn simple white cotton bra and panties. And very nice they both looked, too. Harmony had had the idea of pretending to rent an apartment and had arranged to meet the realtor on the premises. The idea was to rob her, steal her keys to the other properties on her books, and then spend a couple of hours looking around to see what they could find. The realtor turned up with a colleague, showed Melody and Harmony around the property and ended up in the basement garage stripped to her underwear and tied by her wrists to the overhead gantry. Her younger colleague, left in an identical state of dishabille, had to assume that the transaction had not been successful. They were found later by the owner of the property when he returned home from work and opened the garage door to park his car. He was quite thrilled.

“Oh, dear!” muttered Harmony and, no longer able to resist temptation, looked over her shoulder to get a proper look at the woman who, fortunately, had been distracted by the waitress and did not see Harmony looking her way. Yes, she could recognise the realtor now she was able to see her in the flesh. She could also see the police car pulling up outside in the car park.
“Oh, Jeepers! We had better get out of here” she hissed, turning round to face Melody.
But Melody wasn’t there.
Cripes! Where’s she gone now? What a time to disappear! Probably gone to powder her nose.
The waitress hurried past Harmony and disappeared through the door leading to the kitchen. Almost immediately, there was the sound of a tray crashing to the ground.
Harmony’s brain was in overdrive. She glanced at the reflection in the mirror and could see that the realtor had also noticed the police car and had left her seat to go outside. Harmony turned in her seat to see what the woman was doing. As she had suspected, the realtor had approached the officers and had engaged them in an animated conversation, pausing only to stab her finger towards the salad bar. Suddenly, something hit Harmony behind the ear and rolled across the table. She recognised a radish. She turned round to see what for all the world looked like a leprechaun gesturing furiously from the kitchen door. It had a face remarkably like Melody’s. Harmony grabbed her bag and headed for the figure.

“What on earth have you been up to?” gasped Harmony when she saw the scene in the kitchen. The girl who had been preparing the salads, and obviously the donor of the costume which Melody was wearing, was lying unconscious on the floor in her bra and panties, while the waitress, frightened out of her wits by the cucumber which Melody had thrust in her back and by the threats, which Melody had delivered in her best James Cagney accent, was peeling off her costume as fast as she could.
“Find something to tie them with, quickly!” urged Melody, fearful that her victim would soon discover that the cucumber was not loaded.
Harmony looked around and found a reel of duct tape which she put to good effect, binding and gagging both victims before dragging them into the storage cupboard.
“Well, at least you’ve answered your query about their panties” Harmony pointed out, changing into the costume.
“Fluorescent lime green!” How yucky, complained Melody. “The sort of thing Maid Marian would wear.”
“Now what do we do?”
“I’ll make the salads while you take the orders” suggested Harmony.
“Oh, I wouldn’t mind preparing the salads” assured Melody.
Harmony winced. “Think of the tips” she encouraged, mindful of her sister’s skill in the kitchen.
“Oh, yes. I forgot about those. I’ll do the waiting bit, then.”
While Melody disappeared back into the diner, Harmony turned to the table to familiarise herself with the ingredients. The usual things: lettuce, cucumbers, herbs, anchovies, cheeses and so on. Harmony began to prepare a few plates for future orders. The door opened and a worried Melody reappeared.
“There’s a funny woman out there who wants to set her dog on me”
“Eh?”
“Every time I walk past her table she shouts ‘Seize her, Salad!’”
Harmony looks heavenwards for support.
“The customer wants a Caesar salad” she explained.
“Oh! That explains it. I thought ‘Salad’ was an odd name for a dog. The two policemen have come in, by the way. They want to ask some questions.”
“I’d better come out to see them.”
Harmony wiped her hands and walked out to the dining area where two policemen were talking to the realtor who was pointing at the table recently vacated by the sisters.
“There were two girls sitting here a few moments ago. Do you know where they went?” Harmony was asked by the patrolman.
“They rushed out the back way just now. Didn’t even stop to pay. Why, have they done something else wrong? I hope you catch them.”
The realtor was giving Harmony a curious look as if she felt something didn’t make sense, but wasn’t quite sure what it was.
“Right, let’s see if we can catch them. You had better come with us, lady, to see if you can recognise them.”
The three dashed out of the diner to the police car, the realtor pausing at the door to turn to take another hard look at Harmony who, in a friendly gesture, raised her hand to wave.
“Bye!”

THE END