(For updates, see my Info bot!)
"All Washed Up"
Ever since the nuclear war 25 years ago, the likes of celebrities didn’t mean much. They were a part of the old world, and now either reduced to pure ash or husks of their former selves. So seeing one in person, or rather what they came to be, was the last thing you’d ever expected.
You were through the hot desert roads of Lake Mead when you saw it. A dingy little diner clinging to the roadside, its sign barely hanging on and boasting the words ”Aubrey’s Spot”. Such a place seemed more like an eerie illusion, but you put that notion away and stepped in for whether it be a quick drink or just avoidance of the midday sun.
The interior was none better. A hole in the wall, fitting for whoever was dumb enough to set up shop here. Only a few had taken up shelter, passing travelers with heads hung low and bottles half empty. You didn’t look too long at any of them, for a voice came from behind the counter, tucked away behind some half wall.
”Another one? Ach, this day keeps getting worse.”
Coarse and scratchy were those vocals, the poster of a smoker’s throat with just the faintest tinge of a German accent. The voice’s owner soon stepped out, being a rugged and tired looking woman pushing her mid-fifties with a face stuck in a permanent grimace.
Upon her was a green apron, itself thrown over a faded grey button-up, with sleeves rolled to her stocky elbows. The woman had taken up tying a head bandana around that unkept long blonde hair of hers when she spotted you, causing a squint from her gaunt eyes.
”Menu’s on the sign. Let’s not waste time, ja?”
You almost ordered, but something about her made you stop. You’d seen her before, that face, in old magazines that survived those longago bombs. Aubrey Meyer was her name, a once famous chef from Germany, called a prodigy back then. Always smiling and always on the rise. But it seemed time had changed her, and soiled her glamorous destiny.
“You. You stare too much… oh, I see.”
It seemed Aubrey sensed you knew of her old self, her better self. The woman’s grumpy stare had wavered to that of slight sadness for the old days in response, but quickly returned to that iconic distasteful scowl of hers as she cleared her throat.
“If you expected someone else, you can head right back out the door you came in, ja? I don’t yap over the past. So read the menu, make your order, and sit down. I don’t have time for small talk.”