Read Online Practical Demonkeeping by Christopher Moore - Free Book Online

obeisance to that beast by cowering in the ruins of my stemware while you have orders up.”
    “I’m sorry, Howard. Robert called this morning. He sounded so helpless, pathetic.”
    “A tragedy, to be sure. Yet as we sit, ensconced in our grief, two perfectly healthy daily specials languish under the heat lamps metamorphosing into gelatinous invitations to botulism.”
    Jenny was relieved that in his own, cryptically charming way, Howard was not giving her sympathy but telling her to get off her ass and live her life. “I think I’m okay now. Thanks, Howard.” Jenny stood and wiped her eyes with a paper napkin she took from her apron. Then she went off to deliver her orders. Howard, having exhausted his compassion for the day, closed the door of his office and began working on the books.
    When Jenny returned to the floor, she found that the restaurant had cleared except for a few regular customers and a dark young man she didn’t recognize, who was standing by the PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign. At least he wouldn’t ask about Robert, thank God. It was a welcome relief.
    Not many tourists found H.P.’s . It was tucked in a tree-lined cul-de-sac off
Cypress Street
in a remodeled Victorian bungalow. The sign outside, small and tasteful, simply read, CAFE. Howard did not believe in advertising, and though he was an Anglophile at heart—loving all things British and feeling that they were somehow superior to their American counterparts—his restaurant displayed none of the ersatz British decor that might draw in the tourists. The cafe served simple food at fair prices. If the menu exhibited Howard Phillips’s eccentricity in style, it did not discourage the locals from eating at his place. Next to Brine’s Bait, Tackle, and Fine Wines, H.P.’s Cafe had the most loyal clientele in Pine Cove.
    “Smoking or nonsmoking?” Jenny asked the young man. He was very good-looking, but Jenny noticed this only in passing. She was conditioned by years of monogamy not to dwell on such things.
    “Nonsmoking,” he said.
    Jenny led him to a table in the back. Before he sat down, he pulled out the chair across from him, as if he were going to put his feet up.
    “Will someone be joining you?” Jenny asked, handing him a menu. He looked up at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. He stared into her eyes without saying a word.
    Embarrassed, Jenny looked down. “Today’s special is Eggs- Sothoth —a fiendishly toothsome amalgamation of scrumptious ingredients so delicious that the mere description of the palatable gestalt could drive one mad,” she said.
    “You’re joking?”
    “No. The owner insists that we memorize the daily specials verbatim.”
    The dark man kept staring at her. “What does all that mean?” he asked.
    “Scrambled eggs with ham and cheese and a side of toast.”
    “Why didn’t you just say that?”
    “The owner is a little eccentric. He believes that his daily specials may be the only thing keeping the Old Ones at bay.”
    “The Old Ones?”
    Jenny sighed. The nice thing about regular customers is she didn’t have to keep explaining Howard’s weird menu to them. This guy was obviously from out of town. But why did he have to keep staring at her like that?
    “It’s his religion or something. He believes that the world was once populated by another race. He calls them the Old Ones. For some reason they were banished from Earth, but he believes that they are trying to return and take over.”
    “You’re joking?”
    “Stop saying that. I’m not joking.”
    “I’m sorry.” He looked at the menu. “Okay, give me an Eggs- Sothoth with a side order of The Spuds of Madness.”
    “Would you like coffee?”
    “That would be great.”
    Jenny wrote out the ticket and turned to put the order in at the kitchen window.
    “Excuse me,” the man said.
    Jenny turned in midstep . “Yes?”
    “You have incredible eyes.”
    “Thanks.” She felt herself blush as she headed off to get his