Chapter 1: 1. Zeff’s Last Day At RedBob’s

*Kling-a-Ling* said the bell above the front entrance to RedBob's Burgers and Such as the last customer strolled out of the bar digging into their pockets for their car keys. It had been a long day and Zeff was ready for it to end. After dealing with rude customers and an even ruder boss for the last 11 hours he was counting down the seconds until he would be able to clock out. He looked at the old analog clock hanging just over the entrance to the restaurant and suddenly felt a twinge of anxiety flow over him.

It was still only 10:44, a whole 16 minutes until he could clock out for the night. He had cleaned the stoves and counters a bit too early! If someone came in in the next couple of minutes he would have to dirty them and clean them again…

Zeff sighed as he grabbed a pen and an old receipt from the counter and began to doodle. 'A first semester college drop-out complaining about work.' He thought. 'How typical.'

But what else could he say? It wasn't like he was doing anything particularly glamorous at RedBob's, so why be enthusiastic? The best part of his day was when he clocked out, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it.

Zeff sighed again. Someday he would do something with his life. Something he was passionate about. Something that would change the world. But until then he—

*Kling-a-Ling* said the bell again.

Zeff grimaced as he looked up from his doodle. 'Crap…' He thought.

He raised an eye-brow. He had expected to see a fidgety, glossy-eyed college student coming in with a case of the late-night munchies. What he saw instead was a relatively tall man, between 45 and 55, barefoot and dressed in tattered, dirty rags. The man gently shut the door behind him as though he was afraid it would break and slowly crossed the diner to the front counter. He limped as he walked but his gait was straight and long.

As he reached the counter Zeff could see his face a bit clearer. He had a prominent nose with thick, bushy eyebrows above deep, wise brown eyes. The "salt" in his short, salt and pepper hair seemed to glisten under the light of the diner and his chin had a dimple in it.

"Can I help you sir?" Zeff said in a low voice, as to not alert his manager who was counting money in the back. He had an idea that this man likely had little to no money, which could be a problem.

"Uhh—yeah, well-uhh…" Came the man's deep voice. "Truth be told, sir, I'm broke as a joke." He scratched his head, embarrassed and uneasy. "I have walked this street going from one establishment to the next, trying to get a decent meal. And—ugh…" His voice trailed off at the end as he lowered his head and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

Zeff reached for his apron. "One Double Red Burger, comin' right up." He called over his shoulder as he headed toward the stove and grabbed the ingredients.

The man raised both of his bushy brows in surprise. His eyes twinkling.

A few minutes later, Zeff had re-cleaned the stove, cooked the burger and packed it neatly in a bag. "Here you are, sir. Just what the doctor ordered. And I added extra cheese because you used 'establishment' in a sentence and didn't sound completely lame."

The man was dumbstruck. He could only laugh and wipe a tear from his cheek. Then he whispered, "Thank you, my dear boy. Thank you."

As Zeff was reaching to hand the burger to the poor man, a shrill nasally voice echoed through the diner. "Mr. Corad. What do you think you're doing…?" Zeff felt his jaw tighten and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. It was his manager, Dwaine.

Zeff turned on his heels to see Dwaine with a disgusted look on his face surveying the man.

"I'm simply feeding one of our valuable patrons." Zeff said with as much artificial glee he could muster without seeming impertinent.

"Did our 'valuable patron' pay for that burger with green money? We don't accept rags or IOU's as payment at RedBob's." Dwaine retorted with an unflattering snicker.

The man in rags flared his nostrils and clenched his jaw, obviously offended, but he remained silent.

"Per company policy:" Zeff adjusted imaginary glasses on his nose, and said in the most matter-a-fact manner he possibly could, "Section C, subsection VII of the employee hand book clearly states: Each RedBob's employee is entitled one free burger of their choosing once a day for shifts greater than 6 hours." Of course he had made up the section and subsection part, but Dwaine didn't know that.

Dwaine pulled Zeff to the side. "Zeff. Do you think this is a game?" He said low, but still obviously loud enough to be heard. "You feed these people once and they never stop coming, looking for hand outs. I'm trying to run a successful business here."

"With all due respect… It's my burger, sir. I can give it to whomever I choose."

"Not today you can't." chided Dwaine. "If you give him that burger you're fired."

Zeff pursed his lips. What the heck, man!? Why was it such a big deal to help someone.

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Zeff stared at the man, who looked as dejected and hurt as he had ever seen a man look. "Well. I guess I'm job hunting tomorrow."

The man's head shot up and a bright smile, big as a airplane runway, shone on his face.

Zeff removed his apron, threw it on the counter, and handed the man the bag as he walked for the door pulling him along.

"You can't be serious!" Dwaine called after Zeff with a scoff, "You're willing to lose your job for a bum you just met? Do you even know his name?!"

Zeff stopped at the door. "Dwaine… one day that big, rude mouth of yours is gonna get you into serious trouble. My only regret is that I won't get to see it." He walked through the threshold leaving Dwaine behind the counter with an incredulous sneer on his face.

*****

Zeff led the man across the street into the empty park.

When he was far enough away from RedBob's he cursed out loud. "D*mn it!" He swore at the top of his lungs. What was he thinking?! It had been a sucky job, true. But it had also been a steady sucky job. He got a free meal a day and his apartment was on the other side of the park less than a minute away! "What in the world was I thinking?!" He yelled.

"Uwernt." Came a slightly muffled voice, which was preceded and followed by the sound of smacking lips. Zeff raised an eyebrow.

Sprawled out on the park bench, dining on a Double Red Burger like an Egyptian royal, was the old man.

"Excuse me…?"

The man swallowed hard and gasped for air, then repeated, "You weren't. You weren't thinking." He licked his fingers loudly. "Look, boy. I'm eternally grateful for your selfless act in there. But that was completely idiotic." He took another bite.

"You can't be serious! Weren't you wiping away tears a second ago!?"

"Come, now, boy. I told you I was thankful. But that has nothing to do with the fact that you didn't have to throw your job away for my sake."

"W-Wha—That guy was insulting you! He was being so mean. I couldn't just sit there and say nothing! That would make me no better than him! Don't you have any dignity?!"

The man took the last bite of his burger, swallowed loudly, and after a few seconds of looking down at his empty hands he said sternly, "I have spent the last several months of my life living off of hand outs. My dignity is worth literally nothing at this point. What's most important for us as people is that we survive as long as possible and do so with our humanity in tact, not any so-called dignity… I would have been okay, my boy. But what about you?"

Zeff felt awkward and a bit confused as the man in rags preached to him. But he couldn't help but feel that he might have a point. Maybe this stranger was right. Maybe he had acted rashly…

'No.' Zeff immediately resolved. 'This was the right thing to do, no matter how bad it inconveniences me. And I would gladly do it all again.' But wait just a second. Who was this old-timer, anyway? He certainly didn't talk like any beggar that Zeff ever met. He had an extremely wise and somewhat eccentric air about him, like a scientist or artist. And what did he mean by keeping his humanity in tact but not his dignity?

No matter how Zeff turned it, they seemed like the same thing…

The older man, his belly now full, yawned loudly, interrupting Zeff's thoughts and stretched out on the bench like a lazy old cat. "And I'm dying, anyways. So there's that."

Zeff's breath caught in his chest. "W-What?"

"I'm dying." The man restated. "I'll likely be dead within the next few days."

Zeff was caught completely off guard by the man's nonchalant mentioning of death. "Sir! I don't even know your name! Why are you telling me this? You can't be serious!"

The man only scratched his chin thoughtfully and asked, "What's your blood type, boy?"

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