EPISODE ONE: EAST OF OMAHA (INTRODUCTION)

On a long and lonesome highway, east of Omaha...

Three enormous men, all towering over 6' tall and an 18" red-skinned demon walked into a Waffle House.

An elderly waitress that looked like Muriel from "Courage the Cowardly Dog", wearing a black apron, pressed yellow shirt, and a name tag that read "Mirrie" walked up and flipped open her notepad.

"Morning, boys." She glanced down at the red demon, "Well, if isn't Satan, himself."

The demon looked up, "The name's Sam."

"Sure it is, sugar. Do you need a booster seat?"

The demon frowned and adjusted his cowboy hat. The three giants seated at the table knew that he wanted to say yes, but that he was too prideful to admit it.

"No," he shook his head, "Just a coffee, some bacon, and hasbrowns - smothered, peppered, and covered."

"Ok, hon. And I'll bring that booster seat right over. What do the rest of you want?"

Dragula speaks up next “All Star. Like me. Bacon, eggs over medium, scattered, covered and topped. Got any 9volts?”

"There’s an outlet under the booth, sweetie. Just plug yourself in," Mirrie replies.

“And I like my sugar with coffee and cream," the massive Zipper adds.

"Don't we all, baby. And what about you two?" The waitress turned to look at Mac and Xaden. 

"Waffles and OJ. Bring the pitcher," came Mac's order from behind his mask.

"Always do, sugar," Mirrie smiled. "Maple or blueberry syrup?"

"Maple, please," the masked man answered.

"Such a polite young man," Mirrie beamed at him. She turned, "Xaden? Whay about you?".

"Coffee black, two eggs, two bacon, loaded hash browns and a tall glass of juice, whatever you got on hand."

"How you want them eggs, baby?"

The Hunchback scratched his beard and replied, "Sunnyside up."

"Coming right up, boys." 

Mirrie looked at Sam and then at the empty seat beside him. Without a word, she disappeared. A moment later she returned carrying a bright red plastic booster seat. She placed it beside Sam.

Sam stared at it.

Mirrie patted him gently on the head. "There you go, handsome."

The demon's eye twitched. "I am older than civilization."

"That's nice." She replied.

Sam rose to his full, unimposing eighteen inch height, "I created actual stars."

"Mm-hmm." Mirrie replied again.

"I stood before the Throne of Heaven." Sam declared.

Mirrie's smile didn't falter, "Well, aren't you special?"

"I am literally a fallen angel." Sam growled in frustration.

Mirrie topped off his coffee. "Yes, dear. Do you want cream with that?"

Sam sighed. "...yes."

"Thought so," Mirrie trundled away, white sneakers moving soundlessly across the red tile floor that had survived tornadoes, riots, and the Human-Monster War and went to check on a pair of ghosts seated at the counter, arguing about sports teams that hadn't  existed in decades. She passed a gill-man wearing a yellow raincoat on the way and touched his shoulder, "I'll be right with you, honey."

At the grill, a bald cyclops cracked eggs and laid out strips of bacon before ladeling out three pancakes with uncanny precision. 

Within minutes, Mirrie returned carrying enough food to collapse a normal table.

"Anything else?" Mirrie asked.

Sam considered the question seriously.

Then shook his head. "No ma'am."

Mirrie looked over the table. Four monsters. A demon. A hockey-masked zipper. A stitched-together giant. A hunchback driving a truck called the Last Cathedral.

To her, they were just customers. "Y'all holler if you need anything." Then she wandered off toward the counter.

A burst of static rolled through the restaurant. The cyclops cook glanced toward it. Mirrie didn't even look up from refilling coffee.

A second later, an old guitar twanged through the speakers. The familiar tune drew a few groans from the regulars.

"Oh no," muttered one of the ghosts. "Not again."

The jukebox cheerfully launched into one of the countless songs written about Waffle House over the years.

🎵 Well it's three in the mornin' and the rain's comin' down
Got eighteen wheels rollin' through a half-dead town
Coffee's hot, grill's warm, neon burnin' bright
Thank God for the Waffle House tonight 🎵

A couple of truckers sang along.

🎵 Scattered, smothered, covered too
A plate of hashbrowns gets a body through
When the world's gone crazy and the road ain't right
Thank God for the Waffle House tonight 🎵

Sam ate a piece of bacon. "You know, I invented music."

🎵 Ghosts at the counter and a vampire in line
Gill-man by the window waitin' on his time
Everybody's welcome if your money's right
Thank God for the Waffle House tonight 🎵

The song ended. The jukebox hissed softly to a stop. The restaurant settled back into its usual rhythm. Coffee poured. Bacon sizzled.

And outside, the wind picked up.

“This coffee makes me feel more human than human.” Dragula then plugs himself up to the cables by the table and sparks cascade through his stapled stitches and then he sings, “I feel so good I feel so numb.”

Xaden closed his eyes, silently daid Grace, and took a big bite of his hashbrowns. "Invented music, eh?" He drinks his coffee. "That's how you get the day started," he wipes his mouth.

The little demon nods, "Music, murder, Mondays, mosquitoes... still feel a little regret about that last one. I had a whole "M" theme going on for awhile there."

Xaden looks Sam up and down, "Well... that would explain why Mondays suck."

"Hello! Deeeemoooon!" Sam says back in a sing-song voice while poking himself in the chest with his thumb. "They’re supposed to suck!"

Mirrie appeared as soon as the word "demon" left Sam's mouth. "Sugar. By that logic, you're implying that music is supposed to suck, too."

Then he smiled. "Well, it was originally intended to annoy the neighbors. Not my fault all of you started using it wrong."

Across the table, Mac folded an entire waffle in half. He lifted his hockey mask just enough to reveal a glimpse of scarred flesh and promptly stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. The others continued talking as if this were completely normal.

Mac chewed thoughtfully, reached for the orange juice pitcher and drank roughly a quarter of it. It took him two more drinks to finish the pitcher. He set it down on the table with a quiet "thunk" and Mirrie replaced it as she walked past.

Zaden finished off his food and drinks. "Can I get some more coffee, ma'am." He looks at the others. "We look like Sam's bouncers."

“I am going to need some more too and more creamer. Thanks.” Dragula tells the waitress.

Mac unplugged from the outlet and wandered over to the jukebox. He studied the selections.

Country.

Country.

Country.

Classic rock.

Country.

More country.

Then he found what he was looking for.
"Lamb of God — Into Oblivion"
A few coins disappeared into the slot. The jukebox crackled to life.

He returned to the booth and started nodding his head back and forth slowly in time with the music.

While the group works their way through another pot of coffee, a woman gets up and makes her way to the counter. From where they sit, the woman appears to be human - so probably a vampire, maybe a werewolf in human form, with red hair, green eyes, and a smile like a breath of spring. She passes Mirrie a large bill and says, "Keep the change."

Mirrie looks down at the cash and her eyes widen behind her bifocals. "Oh my! Jolene! You are an angel!"

Sam snorted into his coffee. "Statistically unlikely."

Jolene paused. For just a moment, she looked sad. But, she took a deep breath, and her smile returned before leaving without saying another word.

“Big tipper and a looker too?” Dragula asks after she leaves the Waffle House. “Give me three, maybe four, minutes she will be ready to marry a Zipper,” he says to no one in particular.

Sam nearly fell off the table laughing. 

A few more minutes went by. Sam looks over at the battered clock hanging on the wall back by the restrooms. "Time to roll."

He gets up, flies to the counter, and pays before heading outside. The rest of the group also finishes up and, after paying their tab, join him.

The morning air was cool. The rain that had been falling earlier had stopped. The sky was gray. The parking lot was filled with the usual collection of battered pickups, semis, and motorcycles.

Sam climbed into his black and crimson 1977 Pontiac Trans Am. The hood bore a grinning demon face painted in faded red and orange flames instead of the "Screaming Chicken" decal that had been so popular back in the day. The tiny demon immediately disappeared from view behind the dashboard. A moment later a booster seat rose into position and settled in. He adjusted his black cowboy hat and turned the key. The engine roared to life before dropping into a growling idle. A moment later, he reached over and grabbed the microphone to his CB radio. He clicked the button. There was a short burst of static.

"All drivers, report in. Screaming Demon standing by."

“The Electric Warlock is ready!” Dragula responded from the cab of his Frankenstein-faced International.

Mac climbed into the cab of his wrecker and turned the key. The engine turned over and that squeak, that annoying squeak, was back again. He was certain that he had finally fixed it the last time. He slowly beat the back of his head against the headrest behind him and keyed the mic. "Fluffy Bunny ready."

Mac looks over his truck to make sure everything tied down and put away. Then adds some oil to the engine. "Where the ^@% is this noise coming from?" He thinks to himself for at least the hundredth time.

A series of notes erupted from the pipe organ salvaged from the ruins of St. Cecilia's Church that had been mounted behind the sleeper cab and grafted to the air compressor of Xaden's rig, the Last Cathedral.

"Bell Tower Butcher, ready."

Sam threw his Trans Am into gear and pulled out of the Waffle House parking lot. "Alright, fellas. We'll meet up at the loading dock, Screaming Demon, over and out."

Dragula falls into line behind Sam as the Trans Am pulls away.

Mac keys back in on the mic, "Fluffy Bunny to Screaming Demon, I'll bring up the rear in case of a brake down or I see some parts on the road. Over and Out."

"BTB on your six, over an out." He pulled out of the Waffle House, window down and ready for work.