Head

He had a miserable upside down face. Following the waitress as she wafted through the restaurant we stopped at a small space at the end the table. I hate dining fads. They are testing us to see how much we can stand before we walk out. Another night trying not to get found out, playing the part of cultured diners perched at the end of rickety old bench, elbow to elbow with strangers, in a comfortless canteen acting like it was quite normal. As if at any point someone will jump out and shout: “Look! He’s using a fork!”

He was sullen like a grumpy gnome. We were almost touching thighs. I had to watch him from the corner of my eye. My girlfriend thanked the waitress as she handed her two menus. Peering down I didn’t know what the hell anything was; it's so confusing when things aren't in English.

“Lomen? What are Lomen?” I asked.
“You could ask the waitress when she comes.” My girlfriend said with maddening patience.
“I hate those people who corner a waitress on a busy night and grill her about everything little thing on the menu and then forget what the first thing they asked about was and then ask for her to go over it again and then end up picking the first sodding thing they asked about.”

“Are you ready to order?”
“Yes, I’ll have the Green Noodles please.” Not that I had a burning desire, deep in the bottom of my fiery soul to try green noodles but it was the only thing I was sure what it was.

“Excuse me!” He called out to our waitress. “We’re waiting for our change.” The Grumpus was annoyed. His wife was making clam down gestures with her eyes, which were laced with deadly venom. I felt for her it was an embarrassing little outburst.
“Well.” He said turning to his wife and lower the volume, almost hushed: “They’ve got theirs and they paid well after us.”
“Calm down.” His wife said quietly, her palms pressing down on the air.

My girlfriend raised me an eyebrow and ordered her meal. A helpful but stupid waiter came over to collect the tip left in the vacant space from the couple two along.
“Is everything alright?” He asked, not expecting the response he was about to receive.
“No.” The crotch answered. “We’ve already paid but we’ve been deserted. We’ve been waiting nearly twenty minutes to get our change! It’s ridiculous! What if we had somewhere to be after this?…” Cutting him off mid flow the wife reached into her bag and pulled out a remote with two small buttons on it. Pressing one her husband’s head began to inflate. His forehead ballooned outwards hair stretching across the tightening skin. Then eyebrows were forced outwards, bubbling like they were filling up with liquid putty. His eyes slowly began to point away from each other moving round to the side of his increasingly spherical head. His skin looked red and painful and it creaked as if we’re about to pop.

We sat and watched. The waiter who was still reeling from the spat began to recompose him self as the man sat there unable to move, head the size of a beach ball. The wife pressed the other button and his head slowly deflated, moulding back into his original features. He said nothing but grumpily moved his jaw around pushing it around left and right. He wiped the sweat off his brow.

The waiter went away and came back a few moments later with their change. He gingerly apologised for the delay. We were talking to each other but probably talking about completely different subjects as we were trying hard to eavesdrop. The man scooped up all the change from the plate and shoved it into his pocket. He began to stand checking for his coat for keys and wallet.

“You’re not leaving a tip?” His wife asked not getting up.
“Do you think they deserve one? We had to sit around twiddling our thumbs for half an hour.” The man protested. The wife reached into her bag again.
“Oh alright.” He said and slapped down a pound coin onto the plate and began to fumble his coat on. His wife just sat still. The man had his coat on and was ready to go when he saw his wife hadn’t budged.

“I’m not giving a penny more. They’ve already taken forty pounds from me” He said. She reached for her bag again.
“I don’t care.” He said absolutely resolute. So once again she pressed the button and his head grew and grew. The man folded his arms in defiance with his giant head wobbling on his shoulders. It was much bigger than before his cheeks were puffed right out turning a horrid purple colour as if inside out. Finally it stopped growing and he just stood there and she just sat looking up at him, head swaying.

“Uh-uh.” He said sounding muffled and distant. She stood up put on her coat and turned to leave. He followed careful picking his way through the crowded tables. Just as she was about to leave a woman stopped her placing a hand on her arm.

Receptively she asked; “Where did you get that?”