At the Grub'n Booze Cafe

When the bus dropped me off at the harbour, it was 7 am. It’s my habit to arrive always earlier than originally planned, just in case; even more when I’m worried.

I stopped on the docks for a coffee. Right on my way, I found a big sign on the sidewalk that read:

“The Grub’n Booze Café opens most days at 6 or 7; but sometimes as early as 5am; though occasionally, it could be as late as 10; maybe 11.

The Grub’n Booze Café closes every evening about 9 or 10pm; perhaps at 7 or 8; even at 11. Some days we’re gone fishing; but lately, some other days we’re around most of the time, except when we’re somewhere else.”

The author of these unfathomable paragraphs displayed a twisted, rather brilliant, sense of humour. They made me smile. And this was my lucky day: 7 am and the Grub’n Booze Café was open.

I had a look inside. The place had its charm, but it was weird as everything in North Sandwich: the glassware, dinner sets and cutlery were strangely shaped, but they had mouth-watering cakes and incredibly yummy biscuits called pannekoekies in the Northern language, which was slightly different from my Southern native dialect. Or perhaps it was the other way around: they certainly thought it was me the weird one, not them. Everything is relative. It all depends on how you look at it.

Talking about swimming against the tide, I noticed that hardly anybody took the bus in North Sandwich. The vast majority of locals moved about by bicycle. They drove carefully in a parallel lane to the road, driving odd bikes with baskets, shopping trolleys, baby seats and other useful accessories on the handlebar.

Come hail, rain, snow, sleet or high winds, North Sandwichians cycled to go to work, to go shopping, to take their kids to school; they even cycled to walk their dogs.

It was clear that if I wanted to pass unnoticed, I should have to buy myself one of those as soon as I’d make enough money, or better find me a second hand one, because my budget was really skinny for the moment. But when in Rome... I should do as the Romans did.

The harbour was very busy and I could perfectly see the “Ice Flower” ferry from my position at the Grub’n Booze Café. I ordered a cappuccino. The guy behind the counter said:

- Sorry sweety, but we only have Northwiccinos here.
- What’s a Northwiccino? –I asked-
- A tasty delicacy of my invention: a North Sandwichian cappuccino. I sprinkle it with cocoa powder, icing sugar and cinnamon.
- That sounds very delicious! Then, I'll have a Northwiccino with one of these cookies. –I said, pointing at them-
- We call them pannekoekies. You’re not from here, right, Missy?
- Ehm… no.
- Are you Southerner?
- Yes. I didn’t realise it was so apparent.

The guy introduced himself, trying to break the ice.

- My name is Archimedes Smith, but you can call me Archie. My wife Elektra and I are the owners of this humble tavern. Elektra cooks and bakes the panekoekies. Since I’m not as talented as she is, I only serve the grub and booze to our distinguished clientele. We’re aliens too, from the East corner of Burdishland.

In just ten words he had updated me on his life. Elektra Smith waved hello from the back door.

- Pleased to meet you, Elektra and Archimedes. By the way, I suppose you have nothing to do with the famous principle of physics…
- You mean that when a body is immersed in liquid, it receives an upward thrust from the bottom towards the top, equal to the weight of the displaced liquid and blah blah blah? –he asked-

That man didn’t cease to amaze me.

- I wouldn’t have expressed it better. –I answered-
- I’ll tell you a secret: Archimedes the Great was my most famous ancestor. The family pride and joy. And sorry but… I think I haven’t heard your name yet…
- Nicolette Bixby.
- Pleased to meet you, Nicolette. Tell me, what brings you to the Nordvyken harbour? –he asked, holding out his hand to me-.
- Pleased to meet you, Archie. I’m going to work in a ship. –I answered, shaking his hand-
- Oh really? What ship?
- The “Ice Flower”.

Archie suddenly got startled, threw his mug on the counter and sprayed the coffee out of his nose.

- You said the “Ice Flower”? That one over there? –he asked, pointing at the ship-
- Right. What’s the matter? –I asked back, in alarm-
- Doing what? –he asked again, leaving my question unanswered-
- I’ll work as a kitchen hand. Why do you ask?
- For no special reason. –he said, looking down-
- Come on, tell me: what’s wrong with the “Ice Flower”?
- Listen Nicolette: in this land there are lots of sea legends and harbour gossips about strange phenomena happening in that ship. Don’t take it too seriously, but if I were you, I would be careful. -he whispered-
- What kind of strange phenomena? Blackbeard? Guybrush Threepwood? Jack Sparrow? –I asked, skeptically-
- No, sweety. There are no pirates in the "Ice Flower", but don't make jokes, please. There are missing persons; abnormal appearances; weird journeys. That ship is cursed. The captain takes ages to find a new crew and staff for every trip. They pay well, but nobody's crazy for enrolling in this ship. But enough of that story.

Other customers had arrived and Archie left to approached them. What a good excuse to avoid answering my tricky questions. He left me worriedly thinking. It was hardly surprising that there would be a weak spot or something fishy in Falkenberg's job offer. My life was full of these unforeseen circumstances.

I sat at a table and peacefully contemplated the harbour landscape while I started pondering the option of skipping the job interview with the ship kitchen manager, to prevent further knock-on effects.

The docks were a hive of activity: busses loading passengers; busy passers-by rushing to work; heavy trucks unloading huge containers with goods and merchandises in the ships; the grey sea in the background; cars heading to the ferry queue… did I say cars?

Suddenly, I was shocked to see a majestic shiny black Bentley entering the “Ice Flower”. It was Ed’s car. His favourite among the ones he owned. Not just that: two workers unfolded and glued to the ship wall a huge poster, displaying this message: III Annual Kynkybooks Awards Ceremony. I must admit that my heart skipped a beat when I realised that Ed would be in the ship, chairing the ceremony and cocktail party. Now I knew who organised the event.

I covered my face with my hands but kept peeking through my fingers to see what was happening. Ed was not there, but Moebius Hax -his mysterious and arrogant lawyer- was.

Moebius left the car carrying a thick briefcase under his arm and speaking on the cell phone.

I was moved deeply. I felt distressed. I wanted to see Ed again, but after my misfortunes and fall into disgrace, I was too ashamed: there was a significant difference between being the Queen of the Dumbass Industries in Grytviken and being the lowest of the low in the Nordvyken ferry.

I had been a posh lawyer at one of the biggest corporations in South Sandwich and the right-hand person to one of the most powerful men in the island. But I had been sacked and now I was a poor devil; a liar on the run; a nobody at the bottom of the dung heap.



"One better day" (Madness)

Picture nº4: "Cookies" by Antoine Helbert