The man in the pink business suit sat down at the counter.

"I'll have a burger, please," he said.

The waitress smiled. She always did.

"That will be sixty-five cents," she said smilingly. He paid, and waited for a moment. She returned with the burger. That was expected of her.

"Thank you," she smiled. "You'll have to go sit at a table. No one sits at the counter."

"Why have chairs?"

The waitress looked momentarily confused, but smiled. "Decoration, I guess, sir. Come again."

"I haven't left yet."

He found the only deserted table and sat down with the burger. After a moment, his eyes grew wide.

"They've found me!" he shrieked. The jukebox stopped. Everyone looked at him.

"They're going to take me back! I know it!"

"Sir, please quiet down. You're disturbing the other customers," said the waitress (smiling).

"But they're going to take me back! Don't you know what that means? I'm doomed!"

"Yes, well, please quiet down."

The man was silent. The jukebox started again. People resumed eating and talking.

A minute later, a man in a faded blue t-shirt walked in. The shirt had a picture of a dragon and a tiger on it. At the top it said, "Pennsic XI." He ordered fries and a cola, and, seeing that his seating options were limited, sat down beside the man with the pink suit.

"You look distressed," said the man in the t-shirt to the pink man.

"Well, I am distressed."

"I guess that's probably why."

"Yes, that is why."

"What's the problem?"

"None," said the pink man, "of your beeswax."

They ate in silence.

When the pink man had almost finished his burger, he said, "It's just that they're after me."

"Pardon?" asked the man in the t-shirt.

"I said, they're after me!"

"Who is after you?"

"They are!"

"And who might they be?"

"You know: them !"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"You'd be even more afraid if you did. They're horrible. Horrible."

"I see."

But really he didn't. They resumed eating, very slowly.

"Do you know," said the pink man, "why they're after me?"

The man in the t-shirt sighed. "No, I don't."

"They want to take me back."

"Back?"

"Yes. They think they need me there. The fools."

"I see."

"Do you know," said the pink man, "where they want to take me?"

"… Probably not."

"Cleve-Land." The pink man was silent for a moment. The man in the t-shirt ate some more french fries.

"But not," he said, "in Ohio."

There was another pause.

"Of course not."

"Cleve-Land," said the pin man, again oddly stressing both syllables, "is a planet."

"I see."

"In the Andromeda galaxy."

"Ah."

"At the southern tip."

"The southern, you say."

"But they don't know who I really am."

"Hmm."

"I'm really a servant."

"A servant?"

"Yes. A servant."

"Like a butler or something?"

"No. I am a servant of…" The pink man paused.

"Of whom?", said the man in the t-shirt, interested despite himself.

"Of Him Whose Name Is Death Itself to Utter."

"Oh."

"And if they knew that, they'd really be scared...of me."

The man in the t-shirt sighed, and, against his better judgment, asked, "So why are you afraid of them?"

"What? To imply that I, a servant of Him, would fear them ?"

"It's just that you seem kinda nervous."

"A pose, so that they will underestimate me."

"Does it work?"

"No," said the pink man. "It probably doesn't."

"That's too bad."

"Damn! There they are again!"

"Where?"

"Over there!" he said, pointing at the counter, although the man in the t-shirt could not see anything.

"Noooooooo!" screamed the pink man.

The jukebox stopped again. People stared. "Please, have mercy! Don't take me back to Cleve-Land! No! Please! PLEASE!!"

An orange tentacle shot out from the counter into the air and encircled the pink man's neck.

"No! Please! Heeeellllllp...gackkkkkk..."

The tentacle started back towards the counter, taking the pink man with it. As he hit the counter, narrowly missing two useless chairs, it appeared to liquefy, and he went through with a "glurp." He did not come through the other side. The counter solidified.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

Then the jukebox started up again. People began to eat and laugh and talk again. The man in the t-shirt finished his food.

"Now that," he thought to himself. "is something you don't see every day."

The waitress smiled. She always did.