Starving

This strange story, dear friend, is about when Sam and Jenny were out West in their RV. It had been nearly two weeks since they’d eaten a proper meal. For nearly fourteen days, they had driven on lonely highways, stopping in towns where the only dining options were burger places and greasy spoons. But they came to a city of some size. This meant an opportunity to fill up with good eats.

When they reached the city’s main business district, they drove past a street lined with restaurants, choosing to dine at one that promised to have French-inspired cuisine in an elegant but relaxed setting. They both knew that was casual restaurant code for “we will charge a little more than our competitors, but you’ll be happy to pay for it.”

Sam drove the RV to the edge of downtown and parked it on the street. After he and Jenny cleaned up, they took a leisurely walk through the downtown area until they reached Providence Restaurant. Once inside, they found that everything about it was stereotypically French, from the wallpaper adorned with a repeating Eiffel Tower pattern to the white and blue uniforms worn with a red beret.

After a short wait, a hostess led Sam and Jenny to a table in a corner of the room. The hostess made a sweeping motion toward the table, but neither Sam nor Jenny sat down. The hostess turned to them and had a confused look on her face.

“Is there something wrong with the table?” the hostess asked, searching the table for problems.

When the hostess returned her gaze to Sam and Jenny, Jenny scrunched up her face and said, “I don’t like it. I don’t want to sit in this part of the dining room.”

“Oh, well, I can find something else for you,” the hostess suggested.

“Do you have something available right now or will we have to wait for something to open up?” Jenny said in a haughty tone.

“We don’t have all night. We are busy people,” Sam added in a tone that was twice as haughty as Jenny’s.

“Come with me. I think I might have something you’ll really like,” the hostess said, leading them to a window table that had a great view. “This is one of our most popular tables. Is this okay?”

“Do we look like people who want to look outside as they eat?” Sam asked.

The hostess took a deep breath and then sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t like it. Can you tell me where you would like to sit? I can put you at any table that’s open.”

Sam and Jenny scanned the restaurant. They both pointed to a curved booth meant to seat five to six people.

“We’ll take that booth,” Sam said.

“Of course, sir,” the hostess said, turning her back to them. She rolled her eyes before leading them to the booth. After all, you and I both know Sam and Jenny couldn’t see the expression on her face.

After Sam and Jenny sat, the hostess smiled at them and told them their waitress would be with them shortly. If they picked up on the hostess’s changed demeanor, neither Sam nor Jenny showed it. They sat without complaint, waiting for their waitress to arrive.

The waitress walked up to the table with a big smile on her face. “Good evening and welcome to Provence. My name is Daphne and I’ll be serving you tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Sam held up his hands, making the timeout signal that football coaches use. “I don’t want to hear you drone on about special drinks and food. Just stand there for a moment while I figure out what I want to eat.” Before Daphne could object, Sam had buried his head in the menu. The waitress narrowed her eyes at Sam for a moment before putting the smile back on her face. She turned to Jenny.

“He does this all the time,” Jenny said. “This won’t take long.”

“We will start with the Escargots a la Bourguignonne, Beefsteak Tomatoes, and French Onion Soup. I’ll have Steak Diane Flambé and the lady will have Prawns & Scallops,” Sam said, offering a self-satisfied look like he was royalty and she was a peasant girl lucky to be serving him.

Sam placed the menu on the table and waved his hand for Daphne to leave. “Collect the menus and go.”

Daphne’s lips parted as if she wanted to speak. Sam widened his eyes and cocked his head the way people do when they’re asking someone to spit out what they want to say. The waitress picked up the menus and walked off. Both Sam and Jenny watched the young lady walk away. This time, dear friend, Jenny was the one who rolled her eyes.

“It must be so hard to find decent help in this booming economy,” she said, leaning in toward Sam.

Less than three minutes after the first courses arrived, Sam was sending them back. He didn’t think the tomatoes were ripe enough. He said the French onion soup wasn’t warm enough, and the snails tasted funny. All the items were replaced and Sam complained about their replacements as well. By the time the entrees arrived, the restaurant’s general manager came to the table to see how he could help. Sam told him if he really wanted to help, he’d get his ass in the kitchen and make sure the people in the kitchen did their jobs. The manager nodded and said he would oversee the preparation of the entrees.

The manager and Daphne stood by as Sam and Jenny ate the first bites of their main courses. But neither Sam nor Jenny was happy with the food. They sent the food back, switching to French pot roast and roasted half chicken. When they had finished their entrees, Daphne approached their table with caution.

“I’m very sorry about your meals tonight,” Daphne said. “We’d like to offer you dessert compliments of everyone who works in both the front and back of the house.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

Daphne nodded, staying silent.

“And I can get anything I want?”

“Sure,” Daphne said.

Sam smiled. “That’s mighty nice of you. We’ll have crème brulee, mousse, and clafoutis.”

“Would you like a dessert wine as well?”

“Is it on the house?” Sam asked.

“Certainly,” Daphne said.

“We’ll take whatever you bring for us.”

“Very well, sir,” the waitress said, smiling at Sam and Jenny.

As Sam and Jenny ate dessert, they couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow being watched by the people who worked at the restaurant. Still they ate everything that was placed in front of them and they didn’t send a single item back to the kitchen. When the bill arrived, Sam made sure he gave the waitress a twenty-five percent tip. As they made their way through the restaurant, the restaurant staff waved and smiled at them. A couple workers even asked them if they liked the dessert. Both Sam and Jenny agreed that dessert was the most satisfying part of their dining experience at Provence.

Most nights Sam and Jenny parked at an RV park or a Walmart parking lot. But on this particular night, like all big meal nights, Sam and Jenny wanted to be alone, and so Sam drove until he found a remote spot, miles from any sign of civilization. Sam built a campfire, then he and Jenny stood over it. He stuck two fingers into his mouth until the gag reflex started. He stood hunched over the fire until he vomited what seemed like the entire contents of his stomach. The fire crackled and began to burn as if it had been doused with gasoline. He stood up and wiped his mouth. He looked at Jenny and gave her a knowing look. She stuck her fingers into her mouth and pushed them back into her throat until she vomited onto the fire.

When Sam threw more logs onto the fire, a flame shot skyward. He kept adding wood until they had a large bonfire. Within minutes, the wind began to whirl as if a storm had moved into the area. The more the wind whipped up, the more Sam and Jenny smiled. All of a sudden, the sky opened up and nearly a dozen members of the Provence restaurant staff fell out of the sky, landing on the ground with thuds. Sam and Jenny stood up and stalked the befuddled but uninjured restaurant workers.

“Welcome!” Sam said. He spat on the ground, looked around at the group, and winked.“Without your contribution, you wouldn’t be here.”

“I bet your mothers wouldn’t be proud of you for spitting in our food,” Jenny taunted, giving them a tsk-tsk finger.

Sam grabbed his chest and dug in with his fingers, yanking off his human wrapper in the way that Superman yanked his clothes to expose the super suit underneath. Sam looked like Agoat standing on two legs. He had yellow eyes, black pupils, curved horns, and a goatee that almost made it down to his bellybutton.

Jenny grabbed the top of her head, yanking until her human wrapper peeled away like the paper on a Christmas present. She had small horns on the top of her head, her eyes glowed red, and her body appeared reptilian.

“Are you ready to eat?” Sam asked, baring his grotesque teeth.

“I’m starving,” Jenny said, running her tongue over her razor sharp teeth.

The restaurant workers screamed as they ran in many different directions.

“Ready or not, here we come,” Sam shouted.

As you might expect, my friend, Sam and Jenny sprang into action. A long night awaited them and they planned to enjoy every moment of the magnificent feast.

First Published in Fault Zone: Strike Slip 2019