SchoArmando Ramos

Dr. Margaret Mitchell

ENGL 3200 Honors

September 3, 2008

Emanuel

            The clatter of dishes and the constant stream of food kept Emanuel busy. He moved from one side of the restaurant to the next, constantly taking orders, delivering drinks, greeting new tables, busing empty tables, and making desserts. It was certainly a busy day at the restaurant, with new tables right after the next. Tips were certainly great, or at least Emanuel thought so. He was making more money than he had in months, perhaps even enough for the new TV he'd been wanting. He could only hope it would continue to be busy for the rest of the night.

            “Lito!” yelled Gloria, the manager. “Help me get these drinks to table 15!”

            “OK!” Emanuel yelled back. He'd been called Lito for a while now. When he started work he was called Emanuelito, which then got shrunk to Manuelito, and which eventually became Lito. He had never understood the reason why people called him like a child, but he never really cared.  He didn't bother with names. Besides, it wasn't as if even his friends could say it right. He had long been without a constant name, and got used to the lack of purpose in having a solid one.

            “Lito!” called Maria, his co-worker.

            “Yah?” Emanuel shot back.

            “Help me with these plates, PLEASE! I can barely move them.”

            “How many orders have you got?!”

            “Fifteen for the party at 35.”

            “Hells no!” Emanuel managed to say as he began to pick up plates most of the plates.

            “Thanks,” sighed Maria who could barely managed the few plates she got.

            It seemed to be the same routine every night. Emanuel could get all of his work done so fast that he could sit and take a nap between tables. It didn't take long for the other servers to catch up, and they started to get his help as much as possible. Emanuel didn't care. He liked being helpful. But the night was getting really busy; even Emanuel was having difficulty keeping up.

            Then a shot rang through the restaurant. Several of the waitresses dropped plates they had just picked up, much to the anger of the cooks. Immediately afterwards, several screams woke everybody in the kitchen up from their routine. Emanuel was the first to go to the tables, to make sure everyone was alright. When he came through the double-swing doors, he saw an armed man. Luckily, the man had been looking in the opposite direction, and Emanuel docked behind a booth before the robber turned around. A few other servers came into the room, and the man pointed the gun at them.

            “Alright everyone,” the robber began, “I expect lots of cash tonight. I want to see wallets, purses, jewelry, watches, and anything shiny. I like shiny.”

            He cracked up at his joke, laughing hysterically. He twisted his head every which way, watching expectantly. When he noticed the lack of response, he pointed his weapon upward and shot again.

            “NOW!” he ordered, and gave the first table a bag to put the items into. Everyone frantically moved to get the items he desired. Wallets and purses shook into the bag, and jewelry and watches cried into the bag. Women gave in to hysterics, and men shook in their seats. Panic began to spread into every crevice and mind. Except Emanuel, who had been quiet behind the booth.

            Emanuel had kept a careful watch on the man using the window behind the booth he was using to hide. As the robber had begun to collect his night's rewards, Emanuel had reached for the phone next to the door. He called 911, but the line was dead. He wasn't surprised, just merely disappointed. The police tended to make things easier, but it seemed that this time it wouldn't be his luck to have their help. He decided to watch the robber again.

            The robber was slowly moving through the room, watching every table in case he needed to teach someone the methods of debating with a gun:  The gun wins the argument, period. He looked as if hoping someone would come to challenge him, try to stop him. The bag was getting full, and he was happy. He would make great money tonight in this small town. He might even get enough for a new TV. He'd always wanted a big one, with all the gizmos and gadgets he could find. He liked electronic stuff of any kind. It had been easy to take down the phone line, and to stop all the cell phone signals from leaving the building. It was wire work. He would have no problems for a while. He watched the bag get fuller and fuller with all kinds of wallets and jewelry. He would feast tonight.

            Then, a shadow moved between the booths. The spun around, but saw no one new. He shook his head, thinking himself mad. Then he noticed Maria, who was sitting with a table shaking for dear life.

            “Well, well, well,” he whispered, “What a pretty thing we have here.” He moved closer. “Tell me girl, what's your name?”

            Maria did not respond. She was shaking, almost crying. Shes shrank even deeper into the booth, trying to become invisible. The robber laughed at hes attempts, and grabbed her arm. He pulled her out.

            “Now, now, now!” he exclaimed. “You have nothing to worry about silly girl, except maybe a sore body after we're done. You'll like it, I promise you.”

            The shadow reappeared. It moved between two different booths, and this time the robber became suspicious. He moved to the area to investigate. Again, the same people had been there, without a change of scene. They were still trembling, still afraid. Next time he would shoot the shadow. Maybe then it would tell other shadows to fear him too. He went back to Maria, and grabbed her arm again.

            “Come on,” he said, “why don't you come with me? You'll like my new TV. I”m buying tonight. Well, actually you won't. We won't have time for it.”

            “Let her go,” Emanuel ordered. He was standing a few feet behind the man, many yards away from the booth he once hid in. “Besides, you won't like it. She's too uptight.”

            Both Maria and the robber looked at him in shock. They had no clue how he had managed to get there without the robber noticing. The robber let go of Maria, and pointed the gun at Emanuel. He smiled. He like debating with his gun. He always managed to pull a win. It was easy, really. No one argues against a gun.

            “Well,” he crackled, “aren't you the little hero now. What where you hoping to do, save the girl and everyone's cash and get some tonight for it? Aren't you precious, you stupid little child.”

            The robber now took careful aim of Emanuel's heart.

            “Lito!” Maria screamed. “Get out of the way! Don't be a hero, you stupid ass.”

            The robber turned around and slapped Maria. “Don't get in my way, girl,” he whispered. “You're next.”

            The robber turned back to face Emanuel, who hadn't moved. All that was different were his eyes. They had turned into fiery embers with pure anger. All of the robbers instincts told him to run, but he fought them. He still had the gun.

            “Ready to meet your maker?”

            “Perhaps, but there's a slight problem.”

            “Oh, really? What could that be?” The robber almost shook with laughter. What a fool.

            “The woman behind you is about to kill you.” Emanuel stated.

            The robber turned around ready to stop Maria. She wasn't there anymore; she had crawled away. He realized his mistake too late. Even as he turned, Emanuel had closed the gap between them in a split second, raising the robber's arm upwards and jabbing him on the stomach. The robber lost the grip from his gun, which Emanuel took. Immediately, he spun and elbowed the man full on the face, throwing him into the booth to the side and into a crowd old hysteric old women, who ran out as soon as he landed. Emanuel disarmed the gun, and placed it on the table next to him. He then took off the gloves he had always kept with him.

            “Wrong restaurant, buddy,” Emanuel said coldly. Everyone stared at him, in full shock. The servers and the manager had their mouths slightly open. Who would've thought Lito could do that?

            At that moment, Maria jumped on Emanuel. She was crying.

            “Thank you, Emanuel,” she whispered quickly into his ear.