Emmy's Diner is a smokin' ruin now, and most people call it an improvement. Nobody knows how they managed to stay open as long as they did, but after what I saw the other day, I got a pretty good idea. I used to drop by there Sundays when nothin' else was goin' on around South Canterlot. Not to eat—I knew better 'n that. But you always got a free show if you waited long enough.
Old Man Krabs was the main villain of the show. His job was to make sure complaints didn’t make it back to the kitchen, and no one who ordered anything ever left without paying. He was Emmy's husband, but I thought he was her dad when I first saw them. But sometimes when customers started arguin’ with him, Emmy herself would come stompin' outta the kitchen, usually wavin’ a big kitchen knife around. She’s a scary one—wears more makeup than a clown, and she has these huge eyes that never seem to blink, and she's one of those people you can't talk to at all. Even my exes have nothin' on Emmy.
The evening it burnt down—couple hours before closing time, I guess—the Old Man was more pissed off than usual, which is saying a lot. This one guy had managed to sneak out without paying, which woulda been a dick move if he hadn't just waited two hours for an order that never came. Get the picture?
So the Old Man is stalkin' around, lookin' for someone to take it out on. The poor waitress—this little mousey woman called Valley—is walkin' on eggshells and tryin' not to look him in the eye. She's the only one they got, 'cause all the others quit. Hell if I know why she stuck around. I'd have ordered something just so I could tip her a lot, but I knew the Old Man would steal it.
The door opens, and in walk three of the hottest babes I ever saw. Like, we're talking tip-of-a-welding-torch hot, okay? First is this yellow one, and the first thing I notice is her big, poofy orange hair, and the second is her hips. I mean, dayum. Then there's this kinda purple one in these really, really tight jeans. Then there's this blue one trailin' behind the other two, and at first I think she looks kinda young, but then I see she's got the biggest tits out of the three of 'em, so what do I know?
The blue one's smiling and kinda staring off into space, but the other two look like they just bit down on a sandwich that some asshole put a dead rat in. And at Emmy's, you usually have to wait a few hours before they bring your dead rat.
They sit down at the table next to mine, and I wish they didn't, 'cause it makes it harder for me to blend in. I don't usually eavesdrop on customers unless Emmy or the Old Man are tearin' into 'em, but I was born with big ears, and I can't help hearin' what these chicks are sayin'.
"Never thought you were the nostalgic type, Adagio," the purple one says. "I mean, I don't see why else you'd buy our old feeding grounds now."
Right away I know there's somethin' wrong here. No one in his right mind eats at Emmy’s more than once. And "feeding grounds" are for fish and stuff, not people.
"Things have changed," says Adagio. "We have to think about the future. This is a strategic location, and I hear the owners have connections."
Now I'm thinkin', Hold on—did that chick say they were buyin' this place? I look at this Adagio again, and unless she's a rich heiress or somethin', she looks a bit young to go around buyin' restaurants. At this point I'm not thinkin' about the "connections" she mentioned, but you're gonna want to remember that for later.
"At least the desserts are good!" says the blue one.
"Shut up, Sonata," says the purple one. "The adults are talking."
"Shut your shuttin' up, Aria!"
"Shh—both of you!" Adagio says this when she sees the Old Man is comin' their way. He must have seen how hot they are, 'cause normally he makes you wait forever.
Now, the Old Man doesn't usually start gettin' on your case right off the bat. I'm lookin' at him puttin' on this big act of bein' a quirky old-time foreign host. "Welcome, young ladies! Tonight's special is blah blah, I highly recommend blah blah, excellent choice, Madame, blah." I think he goes through about three or four accents by the time they've all ordered.
Sonata looks like she thinks it's funny, but the other two got poker faces the whole time. As the Old Man walks to the kitchen, Aria rolls her eyes and Adagio goes back to talkin'—in a lower voice now so I can't quite make out the words. But I get the sense these chicks are used to gettin' their way. So right there I know a shitstorm is comin', but not how bad it's gonna get. Just wait; you're gonna love this.
As I say, they're talkin' low and not payin' any attention to me or anyone else. So I get a better look at 'em, and I see their clothes look expensive and I don't see any tattoos, so I figure they’re not from South Canterlot.
For a while, nothin' happens. They wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait until Sonata starts squirmin' in her seat and the other two look even more pissed off than before. But then the Old Man brings their food, and I look at the clock and see it's only been an hour, which is a record for this place. The chicks look happy, but I know that won't last.
So they dig in, or try to. The way Aria's chewin', it's like her pizza is made of wood chips. Sonata spits her taco out like it's too hot, but I know that's not the problem. Adagio takes a couple bites of spaghetti, stops, reaches between her teeth, and pulls out this really, really long blond hair. Then she follows Sonata's example.
They call the Old Man over and start givin' him a piece of their mind, but they don't know him like I do. He's already lost one customer tonight, so he's ready to blow a gasket. As they're talkin', I can see the veins on his forehead gettin' bigger and bigger.
They're not done with their complaints before he starts goin' off on 'em, up one side and down the other: "You ungrateful little skanks, how dare you, my wife's cooking is perfect, you're not leaving till you pay, blah blah blah."
The three of 'em just kinda sit there shocked, and the Old Man stomps off to the kitchen. Sonata looks like she's about to cry, and Aria's so pissed, her hands are shaking. But Adagio—she goes poker-faced again for a sec, and then she picks up her purse, says "Wait here," and walks to the little girls' room. I think, if she’s tryin’ to get out the window, she’s outta luck: The Old Man bolted those shut.
Nothin' much happens for a couple minutes, but the good part comes when she reappears in the washroom doorway. It's definitely her, except now she's wearin' this black catsuit and this freaky white mask with black and red paint around the eyes and lips. I'm the first one to see this, and I'm still tryin' to process it when she reaches into her purse and pulls out a goddamn submachine gun.
I'll always remember what she says next, 'cause the whole thing's burned into the back of my eyelids.
"I am the She-Wolf of Canterlot. Give me all your money, and I'll let you live."
I know, right? Shit, and before this I only ever saw chicks like that in movies.
So everything just kinda freezes—me, and the Old Man, and the other two chicks, and the customers, and Valley, who's in the middle of pouring someone's water and spills it, but nobody cares at this point.
Then the kitchen door opens and Emmy comes stormin' out with a bigass dish in each hand and screams, "VALLEY, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
That distracts Adagio just long enough. The Old Man dives for the counter, and all hell breaks loose.
Adagio opens up and tries to shoot at both of 'em at once, but Emmy screams blue bloody murder and throws both dishes at Adagio. Undercooked pizza doesn't throw too good, but it buys her enough time to duck back in the kitchen.
Valley's out the door first, and I'd be right behind her if I didn't have all these tables in the way. I heard you survive a gunfight by hitting the deck and tryin’ to make yourself as small as possible, so I do.
The Old Man pops his head out, and I swear to God, he yells, "Special tonight is lead sandwich, bitch!" He's got this pump shotgun, and he just starts blazing away with it. But Adagio's gun can shoot faster, and she's mostly keeping him pinned.
He keeps yellin' stuff, but I can't hear much over the shootin', except in this two-second lull, when he shouts, "I'm the gangster, not you!" That should start to tell you what's really goin' on at Emmy's.
So what about Adagio's friends? Well, I'm now crawlin' like an inchworm across the floor tryin' to get outta there, when I just about run up against 'em. They hit the deck too, and they're watchin' the shit go down.
Sonata looks at me and says, "Uh, hiya."
Aria just looks just long enough to see I'm no threat, then goes back to watching the fight.
"Guess we're not gonna buy it," Sonata says.
"Shut up, Sonata," Aria says.
So while the other customers book it, Adagio and the Old Man trade potshots, and it's amazing no one's gotten hit yet, but it looks like she's closin' the distance on him. Then Emmy bursts out of the kitchen; she's got this fully-loaded rack of knives under one arm, and she starts throwin' 'em pretty fast. Meanwhile, she's yellin', "YOU THINK YOU CAN COME IN HERE AND TRY TO DESTROY US LIKE THOSE FUCKING FUCKS ON THE INTERNET?" or some shit like that. Knives throw better than pizzas, so Adagio actually has to retreat and duck behind the partition wall that separates the washrooms from the dining area. As she reloads, I hear the Old Man yell, "We're busted, Emmy! Cheese it!"
At this point, my ears are ringin' so bad, I don't hear much of anything else. But a few secs later, I look up and see both Emmy and the Old Man are gone, and Adagio and her friends are runnin' out the front door like their asses are on fire. In my neighborhood, you try not to talk to the cops if you can help it, so I'm right behind 'em.
That's right: I was the last one out. And let me tell you, there wasn't even any smoke.
I know what the news said, but I was there, and the Old Man's line about the chicks throwin' molotov cocktails on the floor is bullshit. The place wasn't burnin' when I left, and at that point I could already hear the cop cars' sirens.
People always wondered how Emmy's stayed in business as long as it did, and between all the stuff the Old Man said, and how quick the whole place went up, and him having a shotgun behind the counter... well, I think you can figure as well as me the place was a front. But I wasn't the one who told you, got it?
There's prolly a life lesson here somewhere, but hell if it's my business to go around telling people what it is. Look, I gotta run. Have a good one, okay? Peace.
