The waiter led them into the kitchen then through to the changing area.
“This is a waitresses uniform and this is for the washer upper,” he gave them their uniforms.
As they were getting changed Trelainne commented, “You would think they could have invented dish washers on this planet. It can’t be very hard, they have washing machines after all.”
“And don’t say stuff like that either, they might realise you are an IT.”
“Information Technologist?”
“No dippy, an Interdimensional Traveller.”
“Oh.”
“Are you two done with the gabbing?” asked the waiter.
“Coming,” said Arianne as she straightened her hat and pinney.
“This isn’t very flattering,” Trelainne quipped as she looked down at her outfit. They both walked into the kitchen.
“My name’s Ben, I’m standing in for the head waiter, he’s gone to the dentist,” he looked at both of them, “So who are you?”
“I’m Trelainne,” said Trelainne, “and this is Arianne.”
“Ok, niceties over, get to work,” he walked to the sink and a giant pile of unwashed greasy crockery. “Sink, pots, go.”
He led Arianne into the restaurant. “Here’s your pen and your pad. You must treat diners with the utmost courtesy. If anyone wants anything special then come and see me. If you are not serving anyone then you can sit in the cloakroom until you do. Go!”
Arianne started to ‘go’ then turned back, “I was just wondering.”
“Yes.”
“Was the owner in earlier?”
“Tony ‘Two Toes’?”
“Yes.”
“He came in at about 1.00 pm why?”
“I thought I saw him when I looked through the window earlier.”
“Is that it?”
“Er, yes.”
“Carry on. The people over on table 5 need serving.”
She went over to table 5.
YOU ARE READING
The Detective One
Science FictionThe Fifth book in the Arth Series. Arthur and the rest are cooped up in the cowboy/detective dimension. Mr. White-not-Black has been murdered and they must find the culprit. Yes it is supposed to be funny.
