Chocolate eggs

One day my stories from the hotel will be published. Paperback novel. Wicked black and white portrait of myself on the back, no blurb as no one would be willing to write any. And the title: Wellness hotel.
Whoa, whoa, hold your imagination cowboy! First you need stories to fill that book up.

Here, I present you the latest and probably the weirdest so far.

4 am. Night shift coming to its end. I'm about to leave the reception desk as breakfast has to be prepared. Drunkards sleep, lovers sleep, loners sleep. The hotel is asleep.

Except this fucking night. Two drunk Germans arrive. Yelling and giggling all the way, they stop with some hesitation at my desk.
"Hello there. We would like eine... zwei..., nein, two beers. Two beers, please."
"I'm sorry sir. We do not have any beer at the reception" that's me, lying obviously. We have shit loads of beer racked up behind the reception door in the fridge. But in their condition, they get only mineral water.
"NOOOO we wantzz some bier! Good bier."
"Sir, you have two bottles of Heineken and Carlsberg in your room. Check the minibar" I told him, hoping they will just vanish. Surely they didn't.
"Oh fuck the beer. But what other drinks you have then... OOOOH I see a lot of alcohol!" said the shorter guy, happily recognizing the pocket-sized liquor store behind my back. There goes my plan, I thought. I should have served the damn beers but now they are ordering some hard stuff. They did.
"Two martinis please, James Bond style. Zwei, yes Thomas is also drinking"
Damn you and your Martinis. Fine, so now what? Single or double? They are wasted already. Double it is. As they taste it, the short guy spits it back.
"Scheisse! OUFF this is is shit! I want some bier!" with the most German-English pronunciation one could imagine.
"Fuck this scheisse... What's your name?" he leans closer above the desk, stares in my eyes."Say, boy! You look like my friend in Germany... As young and as..."
"Stop it, Stephan." he gets interrupted by Thomas. Thomas is sober enough to restrain his buddy. Which I'm more than glad for. Thomas picks up one chocolate egg from the tiny silver bowl on the desk.
"Can I take this for my little kids?"
"Sure, take two." Stephan also starts playing with one egg. He peels the thin red paper, breaks the chocolate egg into two halves. He slowly grabs one half and drops it into Thomas' glass. The father of two kids takes a good, long look at his freshly made coctail.
"Fuck you Stephan. I'm going to sleep" Stephan laughs like an idiot. Chocolate bits between his teeth. Smell of alcohol hits my face. He winks at me and says,
"Thomas, tell him that (says something indistinct in German)," grinning.
Thomas has all the pain of humankind written over his face.
"He says you look like his boyfriend back in Germany. As young and as.. gorgeous."
Now I'm fucked. Figuratively, thus far. And I have to be aware if I want to keep it like that.
"HA! He is gorgeous indeed. You don't want a champagne maybe? My room is no. 5." adds Stephan with a menacing grin.
"I'm sleeping, Stephan" and this time Thomas indeed walks up the stairs.

We are alone. Faint lamp lits Stephan's wicked face.
"So... you want some champagne, yes?"
"Sir, I can't drink during shift. I'm sorry."
"Sorry, sorry... you are always sorry you fucking arschlock." he grabs another chocolate egg and totters towards the stairs. "Fuck this night... fuck this martini and your pretty white face."
His voice echoes up the corridor as he disappears on the corner.
"Always sorry! Fuck you and the eggs, the martini, and Thomas. Fuck..." and so on, until the door slams.

4.30 am. I have to start preparing breakfast. Fuck the breakfast.

Figuratively.