gunpoint

A week ago, after closing up the restaurant, two men (pictured above) armed with handguns resembling the ones pictured below, except longer and without a scope, waited in the upstairs part of the mansion for an undisclosed period of time. Once the tables were re-set, I sat down to have a drink with another server and two musicians in the empty dining room. I was in the middle of a story, and one musician got up to say, "what the fuck..." and walked over the curtain, where we saw the back of a man walking slowly toward the office from the bar. Knowing there were only six of us there, Brian decided to investigate, probably scaring the piss out of the gunman in the process. Stepping back, with the handgun steady, the shorter man with the orange bandana over his face yelled at us to get down.
In unison, we got up with our hands in the air, and stepped toward the back of the room. Brian put his hand on my shoulder and led me to the corner, instructing me to get under the table. Kneeling on the floor, all I could see was Joseph, the other server, staring at me. “When they come over here, whatever you do, don’t look at them,” he told me. As I sat there, shaking, I could feel Brian’s arm over my back. Joseph tried to open the window. I told him not to move. He sat back down. The overhead music was still playing. Elvis. The man with the orange bandana came back into the room, threatened us if we were on our phones, and demanded our cell phones. Reluctantly I placed mine on the table, as I peered across the stupid origami folded napkins at him. He had begun to turn around so I took my phone back and went back to staring at the floor. There was yelling and commotion by the bar, but I couldn’t see anything. Then nothing. They had left. It seems surreal. No one was hurt… so why am I still having such a hard time? I had close to $200 cash in my pocket... they never asked me for anything. I love Elvis. I wish another song had been playing instead. We were on the floor for a while, a few songs had played. I don't remember what they were. Just Elvis. That's Alright Mama. The police came, interviewed us, let us go around 4:30am. I watch Law and Order. I know how it's supposed to go. It didn't go that way. We had a potential suspect, in the restaurant the very next day, and called the detective. He never came. They only took one of us in for a line up. The one of us that was next to me on the floor. We only saw the one guy. Why not take the bartender or someone else who had seen both men, who hadn't been on the ground? It's not a good neighborhood. The police don't care.

I was surprised at the support I received from people. And for a few days, people would gently inquire about how I was doing, and I didn't know how to respond, because I'm fine. I wasn't hurt. No one was. Then I realized, and it sank in, how badly things could have gone. Once it sank in, I stopped paying attention to everything. I was supposed to go to the beach to visit friends. Two days in a row, I tried to pack, and I would just stare at the empty suitcase.

Things I used to be neurotic about, I became lazy, and didn’t do things the exact same way for no particular reason. Because of this, I killed my fish, Kwang, as I attempted to clean his bowl. He went down the drain because I had not set up the multiple strainers I usually have placed for his safety. I couldn’t grab him before his little fish body slipped over the stainless steel drain, and disappeared. I stood there, emotionless, and wondered if I just ran the water for a while, would he be able to slip on down the drain, and somehow live… or should I just end his misery and run the disposal? I ran the water for a couple minutes, feeling utterly responsible for his death, and respective dismemberment, as I decided to run the disposal after flooding the sink with lukewarm water. I didn’t want him to be too cold, or have a heart attack if it was too hot. He’s gone now though. The bowl is clean.

I haven’t been sleeping. I wake up every 20 minutes or so and stare at the wall, replaying everything in my head, sometimes with different outcomes. Sometimes I get shot. Other times I exhibit action hero ninja skills, wrestling the gun away to shoot the guy in the knee cap and watch him squirm.

The police have no leads, and their investigation left something to be desired. Posted information lacks detail and gravity.