“Fascinating! Well, please be careful!” Brie cautions.
“We will, babe. Would you like some company while we wait?”
“You know I can’t say no to you hanging out, stud. By all means!” Brie wiggles a bit in the bed, and pats the side next to her; inviting Chuck to come snuggle. I happily take my place in the chair that I fell asleep in, next to the bed. Brie turns on the TV and begins flipping through the channels. “Anything in particular you boys want to watch?”
Shaking my head, I say, “No, not really. It’s not time for the baking show, yet. So, whatever you want to watch is fine. I’m more of a news kind of guy, and then late show programs but that’s about it.”
“Yuck! I can’t stand the news. All they talk about is negative stuff! Frankly, I don’t need to fill my head with that crap, so I choose not to watch it at all.” Chuck says.
“Yeah, the same goes for me too.” Brie chimes in. “Especially that one on-scene reporter, Sally Stormfield. That lady is so rude! How can anybody act that way and not feel bad about it? I mean, it seems like she reports on anything she feels like with a cold heart, and zero pity!”
Chuck quickly interjects, “How about we put a movie on?”
Brie and I both say, “Great idea!”
Chuck hops off the bed and goes over to the half bookcase that is filled with DVD’s. He pulls one from the second shelf, and puts it into the player. “Here’s an oldie but goodie! The Princess Bride.”
Brie claps her hands and makes a small squee noise. “Oh, I love that one! Hey, farm boy! Get your sweet buns over here!”
Chuck bows. “As you wish.” Brie chuckles as Chuck gets back in bed and snuggles up next to his bride. The three of us settle down and enjoy the film. I’ve never seen this one. Pirates, giants, sword fighting, rats on fire; it’s weird but such a great story. I really relate to the grandfather when he’s trying to make sure he has everything before he leaves. I can definitely see myself doing that.
By the time the movie is over, Chuck leans over and kisses Brie; who is now sound asleep. He slowly creeps out of bed, and tip toes out of the bedroom and I follow right behind. We both head to the garage, get in his car and we set out on our way. His car is incredibly comfortable. The cotton fabric seats are very soft, and it rides really smoothly. It has four doors, and a neat little window in the roof! I’ve never seen a sun roof in real life before. His stereo is unlike any I’ve ever seen. It has flashing lights that change color, only one knob for turning, and a whole series of tiny little buttons that are marked one through six. There’s a thin slit open near the top of it which apparently is for playing CD’s. Personally, I don’t see the point in those. They seem more fragile than 8 track tapes.
I’m so focused on this stereo, that I did not realize the time passing. While I was so focused on his alien equipment, Chuck had brought us to the restaurant! It’s incredible how time flies when you’re distracted. Exiting the car, we both walk inside. The whole interior has changed since I was last here! There are more seats, more buffet tables, and a lot more wait staff.
“Do you want a booth or a regular table?” Chuck asks me.
“I think I want a table this time. Booths tend to make me feel like I can’t escape, especially when the waiter is right there blocking your only way out.”
“Good call.” Chuck nods.
Aside from the new additions, the whole atmosphere of this place has changed. The lights are dimmer, the colors on the wall are now a greyish-silver color, with red and gold wallpaper borders on the top and bottom. The kitchen is more active, yet more violent, and I can see flames rising occasionally from where I think the stove might be. A thin man slides into view, holding a pair of menus.
“Welcome to Dragon’s Garden. I am host, where you want sit? Table or booth?” he asks with a smile.
“Table.” We both say.
“Follow me please.” He leads us to a table that seats four and is centrally located between two rows of booths. He places two menus down for us, and we take out seats. “Can I start you with water or other beverage?”
“I’ll take a Coke, please.” Chuck says.
“Pepsi. No coke.”
“Ok,” Chuck sighs. “I’ll take a Pepsi then. Didn’t you use to carry Coke?”
“Yes, sir. We did. We no longer have Coke vendor coming to restaurant. Pepsi man is more honorable.”
“Fine. That’s fine. I’ll take a Pepsi then.” Chuck drops his head and looks at the menu.
“Water for me, please.” I say raising my hand.
“Very good, sirs.” The waiter bows slightly, and leaves.
Chuck looks over the top of his menu at me and says, “I swear that dude smells like death! Did you smell it?”
“No, I didn’t.” As soon as I say that, a large thud comes from the kitchen. The noise catches me off guard and I wince a little. Both Chuck and I snap our heads that way to see what is going on. There is a half wall, with plexiglass on top providing somewhat of a view in. On either side of the wall is a set of doors. Both swing in either direction and have the typical circle near the top like a ship’s portcullis hole. Through the plexiglass, Chuck and I can see the flames from the stove rising up in the back. Closer to the front, we can see one of the chef’s yelling at one of the other cooks. He bends down out of sight, and then rises after a few seconds. He seems to be straining a bit with whatever he’s lifting. It slops down heavily with a loud splat. Our frozen expressions wouldn’t have been weird, if the rest of the restaurant joined in. We were the only ones that saw it! Everyone else is oblivious; trapped in a trance-like state with their food. A human leg thrashes up and quivers with invisible electricity. The chef sours his face, and slams his raised fist down. Thud! The leg drops.
“Elverson. Did you…?”
“Yes, I did.” The chef looks up from his work, and makes direct eye contact with me. Nervous and embarrassed I look away quickly, and focus back down at the menu. It’s hard now to see the names of the actual food. It’s as if the words on the page are being distorted by my head. The wonton soup now looks like wiggling toe stew. Sweet fire chicken breast is now appearing as sliced feet charbroiled. There’s a sick feeling rising up in my gut. Have I been eating humans all this time? Where are they all coming from?! Dear God, I don’t want to be next! I look back up and I can’t see into the kitchen anymore, because the plexiglass now has a black tint to it.
“Elverson, what’s going on in this place?” Chuck asks me.
“I have no idea, but I no longer like how I’m feeling. I am hungry, but not enough to stay here!” I say in a hushed panic.
“I’m right there with you. Let’s get out of here!” Chuck grabs the back of his chair and begins to scoot back, but our waiter pops back into view out of nowhere.
“Have you gentlemen made decision?” He curls his hands, one over the other, and waits patiently.
Chuck answers before I do, “We have, actually. We decided that we have to go.”
“Oh no. I so sorry. Today we have special. You sure you no want special?”
The words escape my mouth before my mind has a chance to catch them, “What’s today’s special?” Crap! I need a better mind-to-mouth filter. Chuck shoots me a death-eye glance. I mouth the words to him, “I’m sorry!”
“Today special is fried pork with red curry sauce.”
“Curry? I thought you guys were strictly Chinese food only.” Not that I’m opposed to curry, but I don’t remember it being here.
“We try to cater to as many people as possible.” The waiter says. “We have what people need. We know what people want. And we conform to all budget type!” That’s dangerous. “I bring sample tray for you to try.” And with that, he leaves.
Chuck sits back down, “What did you do? Now I feel obligated to stay and not hurt that dude’s feelings!”
“I said I was sorry! Maybe we can just look at the sample and then leave?”
“I don’t think it works that way, Elverson.”
“I don’t think…actually…yeah let’s do that.” Chuck says.
It only takes 10 minutes for our sample tray to arrive. I knew these guys were quick, but this seemed to go by faster. I have to admit that it smells fantastic. The sample tray is set before us, and takes up half of the table! There before me is a huge platter with one-inch cubes of the fried pork, all wrapped up in whatever dumplings are made out of. Each one has a toothpick sticking out of the top; all decorated to look like a miniature festival dragon. The bright red curry sauce was drizzled over the tops of all them in a zig-zag like pattern. Staring at this platter, my vision attempts to trick me again. In a brief second-for what seemed like an eternity-every dumpling became an egg on a barren wasteland of fire and death; and each egg giving birth a new dragon that will scour the sky of anything pure.
“I don’t know if I can eat this, Chuck.” I say as my eyes are wide with terror.
“Dude, shut up! They’re all staring at us!” Chuck says in a hushed whisper.
I look around and, along with our server, there are five other members of the staff around our table! I don’t know what the occasion is, but I’m feeling very uneasy. I do know that in Chinese culture, food is one of the many ways that they form and cultivate relationships. With that being the case, what kind of relationship are they trying to form here? A part of me wants to think that they really mean well, but after my last encounters I can’t say that to be true. I’ve reached my incredibly low limit of seeing people hang themselves, and I don’t want to see anymore marriages ruined. What do I do here? Lord, I need help!
“I am here, son.”
Oh, good! I’m so glad! Quick, what do I do? Do I eat the baby dragons? Do I run screaming for the door? Please help me!
“This is an excellent opportunity for you to be My witness. Fear not, for I am with you.”
Witness? To what? A murder? Because that’s what I feel like is going to happen if I don’t eat this!
“You are a new creation. I have adopted you into My kingdom. You are mine, and none can snatch you from my grasp. Tell them about me.”
Where do I start?
“The beginning usually helps.”
A loud clicking sound brings me round to realize that I had my eyes closed, and Chuck is snapping his fingers to get my attention.
“Dude, are you going to at least take a bite?” he asks me.
Our main waiter bows slightly and says, “Forgiveness please. We did not mean to interrupt nap time. Are you feeling well?”
I’m not sure why, but I have this sudden urge rising up in me to just start talking about a completely unrelated topic. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.” Staring into the face of the waiter, he is as stunned as I am.
“Apologies, sir. How is that like your food? I ask feeling, and you give me random bible quote.” There is now a very present edge in his voice.
A boldness complements the urge as I continue, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” The waiter’s face twitches. “He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not comprehend it.”
A subtle roar emanates from within the waiter, and his face contorts into a snarl. “You no finish that sentence. If you no eat food, then you dishonor me and this restaurant. You order this food, you eat food!”
Chuck stands to his feet, with a look of determination in his eyes. “Listen, Jack. We didn’t order your special of the day. Do you know what they say about people who assume things? It makes an…”
“Chuck, don’t finish that sentence.” I quickly cut in. “Sir, can I ask you a question?”
“Make it good question.”
“What was going on back in the kitchen? The reason I ask is because when I look back there now, it’s solid black plexiglass when just a few moments earlier it was clear. Upon looking through it, there seemed to be a person that was thrown down on the table, and then quickly silenced with a punch. Can you explain that?”
The waiter’s eyes narrow into very thin slits, revealing only dark pools behind them. He leans down and rests his hands on our table. “That was not good question. You ask more than one. All product is fresh. We guarantee fresh, quality food, and you dishonor whole restaurant. You order. You eat. Now.”
“No.” I’ve seen those same eyes before. The dots have now been connected.
The man raises slowly back to an upright position, and curls his hands over each other again. “Very well.” His neck begins to twitch, and a thick vein in his neck starts to pulse rapidly as it presses against the skin from the inside. Like a madman trying to free himself from his restraints, our waiter attempts to keep his voice calm. “I tell you one last time, you eat food now.”
“No thank you. I’m no longer hungry. I do have one more question for you though.”
“Keep mouth shut, unless you put food in.”
“Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?” Within a split-second reaction, the waiter lunges at me and presses his face against mine. I can now smell the death on this man. His eyes are now more abysmal in color.
“Do not speak that name in here ever again, human.”
It’s hard to stifle a laugh. “Human? Ha! Indeed, I am, but what does that make you?” I ask with a hint of snark.
The vein turns black. “That’s none of your business!” Some of his spittle peppers my face as he grabs my throat. My hands instantly wrap around his wrist out of instinct.
In between gasped breaths, I manage to say, “Jesus…still…loves you.”
The man roars out loud and squeezes harder. Chuck leaps from where he was standing and jumps on top of the man. He doesn’t budge, and he doesn’t loosen his grip. Chuck climbs onto his back and wraps an arm around the waiter’s neck, and both of his feet around his waist. I’m now clawing away at his fingers trying to pry them apart. His grip on my neck tightens, and I choke.
“Let him go!” Chuck screams out. Out of the corner of my vision, I see that we have definitely caught the attention of the entire restaurant. Cooks, waiters, and patrons alike have come to witness this explosion. A man with his date flee from the booth they were sitting in, and run to leave.
“Secure the door!” the waiter growls as his attention snaps briefly to the front. Two of the hosts at the front counter immediately race to the front entrance and shut both doors. They pull levers on either side of the doors in unison, and sections of the wall separate revealing hidden compartments. Metal beams slide out and become instant barricades.
“Dear, God! We’re trapped!” the man says. Panic erupts throughout the entire place.
Chuck takes advantage of the distraction, raises a hand and comes crashing down on the waiter’s elbow. The bends in the natural direction with the new sudden force, and the hand rips away from my neck; leaving scratch marks no doubt. The waiter wobbles back with Chuck still on his back. The man sways left and right, and tries to shake off his pseudo rodeo rider. They crash into tables, and knock over chairs. People are scattering like a disturbed bee hive as they watch the spectacle before them. The waiter bends forward, and then lurches backwards while straightening at the same time and Chuck files off; sailing through the air and landing on a table 10 feet away. He turns in a slow circle, eying the cowering crowd. With outstretched arms, he raises his hands and claps twice.
The lights dim in the whole room, and a hatch opens up overhead in the center. A brilliantly shiny and silver gong descends from the hatch and hangs by very thick ropes. On a third rope, is a mallet with a fat cloth end. The waiter grabs the mallet, and announces, “Ladies and gentlemen. It is with great pleasure that I come to you now. You have witn
essed a very tragic event and that is very unfortunate. On behalf of the Dragon’s Garden, I am willing to offer all of you a compensation!”
His voice no longer sounds Chinese. Something is seriously wrong. If I didn’t know any better, I’d be willing to say that the thing I saw in my dream is what stands before me now. He swings the mallet and hits the gong. It resounds with a deep and clear resonation that fills the whole room. At the sound, ceiling panels open up all over the place and small packaged items start falling. There are so many it looks like it is raining. As some collapse into my lap, and on the table, I look with horror at the sight.
They’re fortune cookies.
I know what these things are capable of, and nothing good can come of this. I need to get Chuck and get out of here. The beastly waiter makes another announcement, “Since you are all so very kind to stay, I have fortune cookies for all of you! Take! Eat! Enjoy! Change your fates!” The gong must have some other purpose, because every person bends down and starts opening up the cookie wrappers. One by one they eat and read the fortunes within. One by one they all get a glassy look in their eye; similar to an absence seizure. Some people shout out that they are going to be rich with lottery winnings, while others claim they are going to be free of cancer.
I wish I could say that it stops there, but it doesn’t. They keep eating, and the waiter, still with outstretched arms, is laughing. Is that what I was like when I first came here? This is sickening! As the eating continues, people are swapping spouses and saying things like “this thing says that she’s my wife now!” and “your husband’s name is my true love! It says so right here!” This is absolute madness! No, bedlam! People are now climbing over each other, fighting with one another, all the while eating more of those cursed cookies.
Chuck comes to, and sits up from where he landed. He looks at me and I’m clutching my throat while I’m watching this horrible circus of mayhem come to life. My neck feels like it’s burning, so I check my hand. Oddly enough there’s no blood. That’s weird. I try to speak, “Chuck…” it sounds a little raspy, and it’s very painful to talk.
Fate Of The Dragon Page 29
