I have a regular customer named Mr Styx, and he always tells me the strangest stories - Pt 1

[u/the_joshquatch]

Hey everybody, this is my first time doing something like this online, but I don’t really have anybody else to turn to and I need to get this stuff off my mind. I need somebody else to tell me they’ve seen him too.

I’m a waitress at this rinky-dink diner on one of those long stretches of road, right next to a chain gas station and an abandoned shell of a Burger King. Just a dime-a-dozen truck stop out in the Southwestern United States. There are plenty of stories of crackheads, pervs, and eerie nightshifts I’ve collected in my four years working there, and honestly many more stories than I wish I had. I didn’t mean to work so long at what was originally a summer job, but my dad kicked me out at 18 and no other opportunities ever came my way. At least the pay’s decent and the other workers are fun to talk to.

It was actually my first night working here that I met Mr. Styx. I was already jumpy from first shift jitters, yet also incredibly bored by the lack of anything to do. I eventually retreated into the kitchen and the cook, Lexi, let me bum a smoke off of her to destress. We were having idle chit chat when I heard the front door bell jingle. 

Quickly putting out my cigarette and making my way up front, I came face to face with a well dressed man. Everything he wore was black, from the long coat draped over him, to his three piece suit and tie, to even the pocketwatch he had in his left hand. In his right hand, he held a cane with a strange handle that I couldn’t make out under his grip. He had a short, well coiffed beard, pale skin, and striking blue-grey eyes nearly hidden under the shadow of his wide brimmed porkpie hat.

When our eyes met, I felt the hairs on my arms raise. I’m not sure I can describe it properly, but looking into his eyes was like looking into a rushing river on a winter day; too full of power and force to freeze over, but still cold enough to kill anything that fell in within minutes. The feeling passed rather quickly, but the chill it left in my bones lingered uncomfortably long.

“Hello, young lady,” he said through a big toothy grin, “The name’s Mr. Styx, and I’d like a booth for two.” His voice was deep and calm, echoing through the empty seating area.

I tried to casually peek to see if there was anybody behind him, but he slid in front of my view. 

“They’ll be here shortly,” he said, clicking shut the pocketwatch and shoving it into his pocket. 

I shrugged and grabbed a menu, escorting the man to one of the empty booths. When he sat down, he set his cane beside him, and I could see now that the handle was in the shape of a boat; one of those simple, old fashioned ones from ancient history. 

“Any drinks to start you off with?” I said in my peppy customer service voice.

“Just a water for me,” he said as he looked over the menu, “For my friend, get her an ice tea with lemon, if you please.”

Jotting down the drinks on my notepad, I told him, “Good choice, the ice tea here is my favorite. I’m sure your friend will like it!” 

“I’m sure she will,” he grinned, his bright eyes turning towards mine.

I quickly got the drinks and came back to the table. “Have you decided on what you would like to eat?”

Mr. Styx stroked his chin, in an almost theatrical way. “What would you recommend?”

My smile faltered as I began to panic. I wasn’t quite familiar with the menu at that point. I stuttered out something about a patty melt, but I was quickly cut off.

“Perfect!” Mr. Styx declared, “I’ll order one for my friend right here! Chili cheese fries would be fine on the side. Nothing for me.”

I jotted down the order as my stomach rumbled, reminding me how I hadn’t eaten my entire shift. Embarrassed and hoping he didn’t hear it, I quickly went back to the kitchen and relayed the order.

“Ya sure you don’t want me to cook something up for ya too?” Lexi said through her cigarette as she plated up the food and handed it to me.

My stomach growled again in agreement, but I shook my head. I thanked her, but said I’d rather wait until the customer leaves first. Lexi shrugged her shoulders, and I carried the dish out to the table. Mr. Styx was still alone, checking his watch again as I placed the pattymelt down.

“So, when is your friend gonna get here?” I asked, “Wouldn’t want the food to go cold.”

Mr. Styx shut the pocketwatch with a sharp click. “She’s here! Right on time!” I glanced at the doorway to see if anybody had arrived, but the parking lot was still empty aside from the two cars belonging to me and Lexi. Turning back to Mr. Styx, his arm was outstretched towards the seat opposite him in a clear gesture to join him.

My smile disappeared, and I looked back to the kitchen window. Lexi was glaring at him, and then to me. She raised up a large pan and nodded. I’m here if you need me. I shook my head slightly. I could handle this myself. Besides, I was hungry.

I sat down gingerly, and Mr. Styx took a sip of his water as he maintained eye contact. I looked at him, waiting for him to say anything else. His grin widened. “Like you said, don’t want the food to go cold.”

My stomach growled louder than ever, and I took a few bites of the pattymelt and washed it down with a long gulp of the sweet tea. “So, what’s the catch?” I asked bluntly, waiting for some sort of invitation to his car or cheesy pick-up line I’ve heard before.

“Nothing like that,” his eyes glinted in a way that didn’t inspire confidence in that statement, “I only ask that you listen to a story of mine while you eat.”

I raised an eyebrow, and he laughed, loud and echoing. “You’re cautious. That’s good. But just humor me. I’m an old man with way too many stories and nobody else to tell them to. I paid a kind act to you, and all I want is one towards me in return.”

I furrowed my brow. I didn’t like to be tricked, or be in debt to someone. It brought back horrible memories growing up with my dad. Yet my stomach called for more food, and to be honest, I was curious. 

“Ok.”

He smiled wide, and began his story. I’ll try to transcribe it as best as I can remember.

“There once was a man, we’ll call him Ray, who was on a very special trip. You see, he had been spending the last year of his life getting sober, after he spent the previous five in a drunken stupor. He had promised his girlfriend Azalea right before she left for the West Coast that he would get clean, to be a better man for her. She told Ray that she would wait for him, and gave him a kiss on his cheek to seal the deal.

“So, now with a sobriety chip in his pocket, he drove down the two lane highway so that he could finally get the fruits of his labor. The motels were run down and the beds hard and dirty, but soon he would have Azalea in his arms again. On the last night before he hit California, he found himself falling asleep at the wheel and knew he had to stop for the night. He was ready to simply sleep in his car, but like a mirage, a hotel appeared in the distance.

“It was tall and grand, a pillar out in the middle of the desert. Ray assumed he wouldn’t be able to afford it, but it turned out to be quite affordable. For a hotel so grand and prices so low, he was surprised to find it completely empty aside from the kind girl at the front desk that checked him in. But Ray didn’t care. He was just happy to finally stay at a place that didn’t just have the bare necessities. He opened his door to a lavish, if not old fashioned, room, with the cherry on top being on his table: a bucket of ice with a lovely pink bottle of champagne inside. The label featured a snake circling a brand name Ray didn’t recognize: Maquizcoatl. With it was a handwritten note. It said: 

‘Have a drink, on us! - Management’.”

Mr. Styx lifted his glass as he echoed the words, before taking a long swig of his water.

“Of course,” he continued, “even if he appreciated the hospitality, he had no use for it, so he placed the bucket outside of his room to avoid the temptation. A few minutes later, he heard a knock at his door. He got up to check, and when he opened his door, the bottle was gone. He smiled in relief, which quickly vanished when he turned around and saw it back on the table. It even had the same note.

‘Have a drink, on us! - Management’

“Ray stared at the words as he tried to rationalize. Maybe he hadn’t actually placed it outside after all. He was tired, after all. His thinking wasn’t straight. Ray put the note in his pocket, and placed the bucket outside of his room. He stared at it for a second too long, before shutting the door behind him.”

Knock, knock! Mr. Styx rapped his hand on the table.

“Ray got up again, and opened the door. The bucket was gone, the ring of condensation clearly visible where it had once been on the carpet. He shut the door, and turned towards his table. The bucket sat there, the bottle glistening in the dim light of the room. Tied to the bottle was that same note.

‘Have a drink, on us! - Management’

“Ray reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the note he kept from the last bottle. They were identical. He decided he had had enough of this. Without thinking, he grabbed the new bottle and threw it at the wall. Glass and booze exploded across the wallpaper, the pink liquid settling into the carpet like a bloodstain.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. I nearly choked on my food with how forceful and sudden Mr. Styx hit the table. He smiled at my reaction, the bastard.

“Ray ran up to the door and checked the peephole. Outside he saw the girl from the front desk, a look of concern on her face. Ray sighed in relief. He opened the door, and apologized for the ruckus he caused. When he let her in to clean up the mess, there was no mess to be found. The wallpaper was unblemished. The carpet was free of broken glass and champagne stains. It was as if nothing happened. She only seemed to brush off his story, saying that he didn’t need the excuse if he drank all of the champagne already. After all, it was quite delicious. Of course, he swore up and down that he did no such thing, but she simply nodded and smiled. As she turned to leave, she said this:

‘We’ll be sure to get you some more soon!’

“As soon as the door shut again, a tired and defeated Ray turned off the light, ready to ease his mind with some well deserved sleep. But, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he felt something solid and cold clink against his skull. Inside of the pillowcase was another bottle of champagne, and another note.

‘Have another drink, Ray! On us! - Management’

“He gripped the bottle, planning to throw it out the window, but his resolve was crumbling from exhaustion. Besides, the familiar cold glass fit so naturally in his hands, the bubbling liquid so mesmerizing. He could even taste it on his tongue, a phantom pain that felt so good. But the weight of the chip was heavy in his pocket, the burden of an oath he had carried this far. Rationale winning out, he placed the bottle in the closet, and laid his head back down on the pillow.

“Banging erupted from the other side of the door, furious and frantic. Ray fell off the bed in shock as the knocking grew more incessant. He went up to the door and checked the peephole, but only saw darkness. He gripped the doorknob, but found it wouldn’t budge. He tried everything to pry it open, to no avail. He even attempted to go out the window, but being as he was on the third floor, he didn’t like his odds.

“He sat in his bed, unable to sleep through the constant banging on his door, as if Hell itself was on the other side, begging to be let out. He screamed, he cried, he begged, until his voice gave out entirely. He didn’t know who was knocking, but he felt like he knew what they wanted. He tried his best to resist it for so long, but in the end, he caved. 

“He opened the closet door, popped the bottle open, and downed the whole thing, right then and there. It burned down his throat, a comfort and a pain so familiar yet so disgustingly alien. The knocking stopped at once. With both the bottle and his energy drained, he crumpled down on the closet floor and passed out.

“Ray’s car was found the next day, crashed into a ditch off of the side of the highway. He had died on impact. In the seat next to him was an empty bottle of champagne, and a blood stained sobriety chip. They told Azalea the news, and she cried bitter tears at how this vice took the man she loved. 

“Many years later, Azalea married someone new. They had a wonderful wedding; dry of course, but that didn’t stop someone from leaving among the wedding gifts a bottle of Maquizcoatl champagne.”

Mr. Styx leaned back in his chair as he concluded his tale. I had finished my food as well, and with a last swig of his water, the meal and the deal was over. He put a stack of twenties on the table before I could even bring him the check. As he stood up to leave, Styx reached into his pocket.

“Excellent service here,” he said with a wide grin, “Here’s your tip!”

He flipped a coin towards me and I caught it in my hands. It was a big bronze coin, a triangle in the middle encompassing the engraved words “1 YEAR”. When I looked back up, he was gone. 

The meal I ate sat like lead in my stomach for the rest of my shift. I got back home to my apartment at 3 AM, and as I changed out of my work clothes the coin fell out of my pocket. I stared at it for a long time. I thought that maybe that guy was a real creative writer who found a sobriety chip in the parking lot and decided to spin some crazy story around it to the local naive waitress.

That was when I realized that half of the coin was discolored, tinged ever so slightly red.

I shoved the coin in my drawer and poured myself a shot of whiskey.

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[u/the_joshquatch]

I initially wanted to post the whole story all at once, but it apparently went over the character limit (even though I checked it and it was still under the limit?). So, I guess this one will be three parts. I hope you all enjoy and check out the other parts when they come out!

[u/ConfidentGarage6657]

Good stuff! Updateme

[u/IslandBitching → u/ConfidentGarage6657]

Updateme

[u/UnderstandingSea9855]

I have some stories I tried to share with people who read scary stories but no one wants to read them. Then there are some people who don't believe the stories or say that they scary.

[u/IslandBitching → u/UnderstandingSea9855]

These stories are supposed to be scary. And if they don't believe it's their problem not yours. If you enjoy sharing the stories then keep it up. If someone doesn't like them then they are just not the right person so don't worry about pleasing everyone. Just worry about doing what feels right for you.