The Unfinished Character’s Café

“I'm going to kill off the antagonist. That should spice up my autobiography.”

Annabel rolled her one eye. “You can’t do that, Charles.”

“At least you weren’t created a picture book.” Tulip’s bright yellow form was startling against the blue iris on the black flowered boutique wallpaper. “My antagonist pulled me up by the roots and then my writer got busy.” She folded her delicate petals down.

“Oh, he’ll come back to you once the electric bill comes due.” Annabel again rolled her eye. “At least your writer isn’t a fly-by-night, full of coffee induced fervor.”

“That is my point.” Charles flailed his hands. “If I kill my antagonist, if he was dead, his book sells will skyrocket. You know, like when an artist dies.”

“Your antagonist is the author?” Tulip frowned as if contemplating this revelation.

“Of course he is.” Charles sputtered. “He left me high and dry, out to sea on a rudderless boat. Literally.”

“Don’t say literally in here,” Anabel said. “That word is dated and overused.

“She’s right.” Tulips soft petals shook as she spoke. “You're only allowed to say that word if your protagonist is of a certain age.”

“A certain age?” Charles raised a skeptical brow.

“Yes, children or young adults between the ages of 12 to 25, they can say that.”

“But it’s still dated.”

“Of course I’m dated.” Charles gave an indignant snort.

“You’re a pirate.” Annabel rolled that one eye once again—it was starting to get repetitive. “You can curse and fight and whatever else pirates do, but unless you’re a modern teen we don’t use literally in here.”

 “If you kill your antagonist, won’t you die?”

“No, Tulip. If you can walk around roots exposed waiting for your story to be finished, I’m confident my story will live on. Even after the death of my creator.”

“I wouldn’t chance it,” Annabel said. “After all, you can’t guarantee some relative will take over your story. You want to remain rudderless forever?”

Charles shrugged. He moved to the door and turned the sign from closed to open.

“I’d better put the coffee on.” Tulip rose, as the first customer ducked through the door.

“I hope you weren’t waiting out there.” Annabel pushed a plate of warm scones toward the newcomer.

The nine-foot blonde elf still had that fresh made confused look on his face. “I suppose I need to eat. I don’t know what I’m doing yet.”

“You're very well made.” Tulip piped in from behind the counter.

“Don’t worry, your creator will get to that eventually. I’m sure they will.” Anabel slathered the lie with honey. “Right now, they are probably just making your character stand out.”

“Right.” Charles gave a lopsided grin.

The elf nibbled off the edge of the scone. “Oh, there’s some more… Something about a vague kingdom with a magical plague. I think there is an enemy dwarf or a magician. Maybe she’s a magician that is a dwarf. Still not clear on that. I think I like scones.”

“Noted.” Charles gave a nod.

“You like scones obsessively, or is that just a side note?”

“Obsessively. I think.”

 He took a large bite.

 Annabelle served him another.

“I loved the sunshine obsessively.” Tulip’s expression turned wistful. “That is until I was uprooted. Then it burned my roots.” She sighed. “I wonder if I still will after…” She let the words trail off.

“So, you’re that tall because?”

“Aren’t we all? Elves that is. We’re all tall, thin and have pointy ears.”

“Right.” Charles lifted his brow toward Annabelle. “Cliché.” He inaudibly mouthed the word at her.

She rolled that one eye again and brought the elf another scone. “You don’t happen to like banana nut muffins, obsessively? We have a sale on. Two for ten.”

He searched the pouch at his side. “I have no money.”

A coin appeared in his hand. “Oh, never mind.”

“You’re still being written.” Charles gave a low whistle. We usually only cater to the abandoned characters.”

“We welcome everyone.” Tulip interjected with a fervor that went against her delicate nature. “Everyone should be accepted with open leaves.”

“Right.” Annabel eye rolled. “You got ten minutes buster.

“If you keep poofing coins out of thin air, I’ll give you twenty.” Charles said, taking the tray of muffins he placed one in front of the elf.

“At those words the elf vanished.”

Tulip stuck out her bottom lip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m telling you, I’m going to kill the antagonist. And when my rewrites begin, I’ll be the hero.” Charles snatched up the elf’s discarded coins. He stuffed more muffin in his mouth than it seemed he could swallow, while pocketing the coin. 

 “You two stop talking and get lunch prep started.” Annabel ordered as the next guests filed through the doors.

The afternoon was a flurry of guests eating and drinking.

Tulip disappeared for about an hour. She was returned with her dirt covered roots looking healthier, and a smile plastered over her drawn face.

When they turned the sign from open to closed, the elf reappeared, more haggard and slightly shorter than before. “Scones… please.” He called out from behind the closed glass door.

Annabel flicked the lights off and closed the blinds.

“Scones.” The voice called again.

Charles sighed. “Oh, let him in, Annabel. Before Tulip starts to cry.”

She went to the door and opened it wide.

He came in, this time without ducking. “You’re not hiring, are you?” Seems the market is overcrowded with my kind and my creator has decided to go in a different direction.”

“After he shortened you?” Tulip gasped.

“You're not getting your coin back.” Charles snapped grasping his pocket where he’d stored the treasure.

 “Left me in the middle of a battle with the orcs.” The elf shook his head, seeming to ignore both their comments.

“I suppose we could find something.” Annabel said. “Tulip will probably be leaving soon. Unless today was just a whim.”

Tulip shrugged. “I won’t know until the story is done, but I know my creator’s habits, so it’s likely. Besides, I’m more than willing to share tips.”

“Don’t take her up on that.” Annabel rolled her eye. “She shares everything.”

“Literally, everything.” Charles widened his eyes as he spoke.

The newly shortened elf gave an understanding tilt of his head.

“Well, I’m off to try it. My creator is going to regret ever writing the likes of Charles.”

Charles disappeared and Annabel set a plate of leftovers in front of the elf.

“What’s that about?” he asked.

“He’s going to kill his creator.” Tulip answered before Annabel had a chance.

“Do you suppose that will work?”

“No.” Annabel poured the last of the coffee into a cup and handed it off to the elf.

“He’ll get erased!” Tulips drawn eyes widened. “Or worse burned.”

The elf sniffed the cup and set it aside.

Annabel nodded her approval. “Coffee makes you do dangerous things. Like writing a one-eyed heroin and never finishing her.”

“You run a café,” the elf said.

The comment was met with an eye roll.

Moments later Charles returned. Picking up the discarded coffee cup, he went to work cleaning tables.

“What happened?” Tulip demanded.

“He’s…” Charles took a moment to compose himself. “He’s writing fan fiction.”

“I’m sorry,” Annabel said.

“Isn’t that good?” Tulip folded her leaves in, making herself seem smaller than she was moments before. “He may come back to you.”

“Fanfiction.” Charles stated again. “If I kill him now, Johnny Depp could be stuck here forever.”

“Worse. Johnny Depp’s cheap knock off,” Annabel said. “That is the last thing we need showing up here.”

“Oh, but I like him.” Tulip’s face lit up. “He’s such a good pirate.”

Charles glared at her.

And thus, concludes the story of The Unfinished Character’s Café.

The End