The Restaurant

Curtis hadn’t appeared in over a month, and none of them were sure why he ever appeared or why he stopped. The disappointment was palpable, not just in their not being able to figure out the troll, but in that their first brush with what should have been true evil and the netherworld of despair that their music was supposed to reflect, was just a steaming pile of nonsense in a paper bag, on fire in front of their sort of sad lives.

“What are you going to get?”

“I’m not sure. What about you?”

“I’m also not sure. Hmmm.”

“I’m going to get olives.”

The new bass player Otto looked at him sideways. Doom fortunately beat him to it.

“Not very brutal.”

“No. Not that much.”

“Not very brutal at all.”

“No.”

“As an Odinist, this pains me. Doesn't it for you?”

“I’m not sure Leveyan hedonism allows me that.”

“And you?”

“I’m thinking about being a nazi or something. Not sure.”

It wasn’t going well. They had had the discussion before. They had an image. They had a philosophy. The had a way that they needed to present themselves. They had gone over this before. This is why they came to Dale’s Steaks and More. It had more meat than any place they could find. There was still an ongoing and simmering debate about why they were going to an American place instead of a meat restaurant of at least quasi-Nordic or at the least Germanic origin. Well there was no such thing, so there was that. Maniacal had brought it up once.

“So no meat. We eat meat.”

“I don’t know, just not into meat today. I feel like olives,” Maniacal professed.

“So no meat.”

“Maybe not.”

“Yeah.”

“Well they’re brutal, but in their own way.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that?”

“You know, they come from a harsh climate. Olive trees have to grow without much rain. Lots of sun. Generally rocky soil. They struggle a lot.”

“And then they make this bullshit vegetable.”

“Stone fruit. It's hard. It's had struggle. And I like salty things.”

“You like bullshit.”

“I think it's a nut actually.”

“Fuck you.”

“So, I was thinking about the logo, maybe we can change it a bit,” said Otto trying to change the subject.

“We don’t change the logo. We don’t change the music. Not for society. Not for a mythological troll. Not for anything,” Maniacal stated plainly and sternly rising up so slightly in his chair.