Spencer Moseley

I walked into the darkish restaurant: Mian. My favorite Szechuan Chinese spot in Houston. A lovely lady asked me if I was dining in. I said yes and she said "sit wherever you would like".  I sat at one of those tables adjacent to a wall and faced the restaurant entrance (so I wouldn't be facing the other patron one table down from me). I pulled up the online menu on my phone and ordered like the hungry boss I was: Beef noodles, Pork dumplings, Brown Sugar Milk Tea. I had enough time to read my mediocre fantasy novel while I waited for the meal. They brought me this spicy cabbage and plum tea to start. Sorry Kimchi, but China does spicy cabbage better in my opinion. The smooth chopsticks took some getting used to but I managed.  The beef noodles came out next. The beautiful, very large bowl was brimming with red chili oil, chewy yellow-brown noodles, green onions, bok choy, and clumps of beef. The broth was the beefiest flavor. And though I ordered mild, it had quite a spi...

"El Kicheeee," I mumbled to myself. I like to do that in my car for some reason. I'd eaten at the Vietnamese spot next to it, so I was sure this place would be good too.  The Guatemalan Bakery/Restaurant was charming. On the left were the pastries you could snag and purchase at the register. And everywhere else there were booths or tables for restaurant dining. I wandered aimlessly until a lady asked me if I would like to eat. I said yes. She pointed at a table next to her and said I could sit there. I waited til she walked away and sat at a booth. I'm partial to booths. I waited about 15 minutes until a hottie asked me what I'd like to drink.  "Jamaica and a water please," I said. She was so hot but I maintained eye contact. I get proud of myself for things like that. She looked like she was studying me, which unnerved me a bit. But she broke into a partial smile and walked away.  I had reviewed the menu but didn't want to rush the system by asking ...

The arrow glanced off my sword and that was my first experience with battle. It glanced off and caught my friend in the neck. He didn't die but I felt fucking bad.  And then there was the pissing and vomiting and shitting that everyone talked about. I myself had prepped for this by forcing myself to vomit pre battle. My spear was very sharpened but my hands were shaking. I got lucky and didn't die for the first hour of battle because people around me had the wherewithal to remember their training and execute some of their training. Albeit poorly. My only special move involved thrusting my spear forward blindly and hoping I caught the enemy rather than my comrades. The enemy didn't wear any especially distinguishing armor from ours so I'm not sure who I killed. I can say I felt pretty awful about the whole thing.  I'm also not too sure if we fucking won the battle or not. Both sides sort of just scampered in different directions. I looted what petty change I could. I...

"He's all alone," said Zeus. Hera rolled her eyes. "No seriously," said Zeus. "Just look at him praying to us. He really thinks we are gonna help him." "You can't even find your lightning bolt," laughed Hera.  Aphrodite twirled her hair and spoke in that LA accent she'd acquired from that LA boy she was dating, "You guys are liiiike not even that funny low key. I'm gonna go showerrr." "You just showered five minutes ago," said Hermes. He tended to use his winged feet like roller blades on the clouds. "You smell great." "Are you fucking hitting on meeee?" asked Aphrodite.  "You wish." Hephaistos stopped drumming away on the sword he was crafting for a couple seconds. And went back to work.  "You almost done?" asked Poseidon. "I'd probably work better if you weren't hovering," Hephaistos fired back, wiping sweat from his brow. "As if that trident I ma...

The lady who often serves me at Jack in the Box on San Felipe was outside cleaning the drive thru menu frame. I thought of saying hi. Instead I just said my order and waited in line.  It wasn't til she greeted me at the drive thru window that I blurted out: "Wow you were just out there cleaning." What a stupid fucking thing to say. She adjusted her headset. "You would think we would have maintenance people for that but—" She had a slight accent and went back to work.  I waited. But not long. Jack in the Box is quick. "Would you like any salsa or ketchup?" "No thank you." She asks me that every time. Is she acting like she doesn't know me? No, Spencer, it's her job to ask that.  I took the brown paper bag and caramel iced coffee from her as quick as I could. Wouldn't want to hold up the drive thru line another two seconds. I pulled into the parking lot next to some trucks to get a view of Antone's Po Boys for no particular reas...

I ended my phone call with one of my best friends and walked into Pho Thanh Long. I'd felt guilty for placing my online food order during our phone call, but I was still happy with the order: Banh Mi, Thai Tea, Spring rolls.  I noticed someone in the restaurant looked familiar, but I couldn't remember her name. It would only be halfway through fighting a spicy jalapeno that I'd remember I worked with her pretty closely for two years a couple jobs ago. Whoops. "Did you order—?" The cashier with a buzzed head and portly stature got distracted by nothing before returning to his question. "A Vietnamese sandwiiiich and uhh." "Thai tea," I offered. "Yes," he said, curtly, not liking that I'd offered, apparently. He handed me the food wrapped in a Walmart bag (the best food is poorly wrapped) with the signature pinkie wide straw jutting out the side that I'd soon jam through the tea's sealing film. No turtles saved today. I ate t...

A handsome man with jet black hair and jet black stubble spoke with an even more handsome middle eastern accent.  "Can I help you sir?" Why yes you can. Spencer, talk normal.  Cough. Cough. "Yes, could I get—"  I realized I hadn't looked at the menu and fought through the awkward pause I needed to make up my mind.  "Could I get a beef shawarma?" "Yes sir," he said calmly, as if my awkward pause hadn't existed. Another pause ensued where I tried to figure out how to pay. I prefer the credit card tap. But the thingy didn't have a tap thing. So I inserted. "Would you like your receipt?" he asked. "No thank you," I said and sat down. I scrolled to not look like a psycho staring at him. I looked briefly around the restaurant that doubled as backstock: empty cardboard boxes, upside down chairs and step stools smooshed into the far end of the room. "Here you go," he said, offering his first half smile. Not that ...