Thanksgiving Dinner-Chapter 3

The waitress smiled and turned with a menu in hand and marched toward the opposite side of the room. Arna, not knowing what else to do, followed behind her. So, is this heaven or hell, she thought as she passed the other diners who were so involved with each other and their meals that not one of them looked up as she passed by. The waitress stopped next to a corner booth turned and waited for Arna to catch up. Continuing to play along, Arna slowly slid into the red leather booth, taking the laminated double-sided menu from the waitress' hand.

"Can I start you off with something to drink?"

This was insanity, that's it! Arna had gone mad and this was all was some sort of drug-induced hysteria. The world hadn't come to an end, she wasn't in this diner and as soon as the drug wore off she'd be able to explain all of this.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

Arna looked up into the gray eyes of the silver haired woman dressed in a ridiculous red and white stripped apron and couldn't help but burst into laughter. Come Arna, she thought to herself, you can be a little more creative than that, your a writer afterall. Why not have the waitress in some crazy clown getup, but a standard red and white apron? The woman, confused looked around to see what could possibly be so funny. Seeing nothing she placed her hands on her hips and her smile was replaced with a look of irritated pity.

"Take a look at the menu and I'll come back in a minute."

Arna continued to laugh for a few more seconds until she felt tears on her face. She grabbed a napkin, it was real, and dabbed her face but the tears kept coming followed by shaking and wailing from somewhere in the room. It scared her, she hadn't heard a sound like that in all her life. It was a screech that seemed to pierce the room. Looking around at the other diners and wondering what or who could make such an awful noise, suddenly she turned and saw the reflection in the window of a woman who's face was contorted and wet and obviously in pain. It was then that she realized it was her. The waitress rushed back over with a glass of water setting it on the table. Arna wondered why people always offered you water in times of distress. Did it possess some magical or medicinal powers that could take away pain, grief, disappointment? Would one swallow erase tragedy and heal bumps and bruises?

"Please ma'am, drink some water. It'll be okay. Calm down, you're disturbing the other diners."

Arna grabbed the glass, hand shaking and slowly brought it to her lips. Tasting the water she thought how real this delusion was. She'd never been able to eat or drink in any of her dreams before. She made a mental note to ask her caregivers the name of that drug. The water was ice cold and it felt so good. her nerves began to settle and she dreaded coming out of this whatever it was that she was in.

"I'm sorry, uh, can I have a bacon cheese burger and fries with guacomole and a large chocolate shake, please."

If she was dreaming she might as well dream big. None of this was real, even the near 2,000 calories she was about to eat was all in her head, so, she might as well go along for the ride. Besides, it beat what she had dreamed earlier, that the world had come to an end. Wow, what a trip.

Thanksgiving Dinner-Chapter 2

Yesterday had started like any other day with unsuspecting humans gathering around their lives as if tomorrow was promised. Many tomorrows and next weeks had already been plotted out. Birthdays and anniversaries anticipated with the assurance that things would come around as they always did. Not much thought was given to the fact that the sky was unusually dark and the air was thick and smelled like sulfur. Easily explained away as a chemical spill or a faraway fire being fought by brave firemen, of course what else could it be. Not the earth gasping and spitting out the cancerous toxins that it could no longer absorb or flush down the river or bury under ground. Nothing to worry about and that Global Warming business was nothing but some hogwash rhetoric conceived from the minds of bored tree-hugging fanatics. They all needed to be gathered up and dumped in a vat of tar and feathered for causing such a raucous. This was earth we were talking about after all, it had been around forever, we had at least a million more years to have to deal with this doom and gloom nonsense and by then we’d all be dead anyway. People could be so dramatic. If her ignorant belief had been true, then she had lived a million years in a day and Arna was very much alive to witness the tragedy of her utter stupidity. On wobbly legs she stood amidst what was left of earth, smoke rising up silently telling her, “I told you so!” Off in the distance she saw Karma’s silhouette, pointing her long skinny finger toward heaven, her laugh piercing the silence that was even thicker than the air Arna was attempting to breathe. She didn’t even acknowledge her presence, didn’t care that she was staring at her through teary bloodshot eyes. Knowing she’d be dead soon just like the others, Karma turned her back and disappeared into the horizon. Arna suspected that it would be too much to hope that this was all just a dream sequence from some overacted television drama. Nope, this wasn’t the Ewing’s Ranch and JR was lying somewhere amongst the others. Sadder still, no one was yelling cut from the distance. This was it; this was where the buck had stopped with a screeching halt.

As she stood knee deep in the rotting piles of flesh, she suddenly didn’t know whether to scream or laugh hysterically. Finally, she was the “It” girl, the most beautiful woman in the world, the undisputed most envied beauty on the planet. All of her hours spent weekly at the gym, all the rabbit food she’d consumed and all the money she’d spent on blocking Father Time from setting up camp on her face, had paid off. All those young, skinny girls who’d looked at her with eyes crossed with pity and arrogance now had nothing to say. Who’s laughing now? As she continued to look around her at the blackened bodies baked to a crisp lying useless on the street, she felt a deep twinge in her gut that made her nauseous, wiping a tear that had fallen on her cheek, realized she still envied them. She was still on the outside looking in, the only one not invited to the party. Things hadn’t changed and she hadn’t received the memo that yesterday was the last day; death had become the ultimate pink slip. Wasn’t that just like her life, Arna thought, always the last to know the juicy details, the latest gossip and now the last to die? She wandered what the end would be like for her? Did these people feel pain or was it quick and painless? It was hard to breathe and Arna began to get a new understanding of eternity as she inhaled the thick black crud. Maybe she was already dead, lying among all the others in the middle of Main Street. If she kept walking, maybe she’d run into her own body and this was some sort of out of body experience. Was everybody else watching the same morbid nightmare?

Suddenly, up ahead about 100 yards, Arna saw a small building, completely intact. It had been a little mom and pop diner just yesterday. How strange, it seemed totally unaffected by the black storm that had rained down upon earth almost 24 hours ago. Its bright red roof stood out among the black and gray background. Arna found strength from somewhere and began running; jumping and tripping over bodies praying that she hadn’t gone completely mad. Stopping within arm's reach of the front door she struggled to catch her breath, it was real, it was beautiful! Vibrant color in the midst of blacks and grays. Her hands began to shake and slowly she placed her hand on the door, afraid that her touch would prove this all to be some cruel joke, one last laugh at her expense.

The door was unlocked, of course, what did she think, that mom or pop would have run from the kitchen to lock it just before keeling over and dying in the corner booth? Pushing the door open and peering inside she suddenly realized that she could breathe and the air was clean and fresh inside the diner. What startled her the most was that it was filled with afternoon diners, ordering burgers and fries, malts and sodas oblivious to the state of affairs outside.

"Welcome to Selma's, let me show you to a table."

To be continued...

Thanksgiving Dinner

The foul stench of death woke Arna, forcing her eyes to accept the reality that this was not a dream. Everyone and everything that Arna knew and loved was gone and she was left to serve as a witness to where mankind’s selfishness had brought them. She and she alone would act as a spokesman to the ferocity in which man had dug his own grave. Warnings of impending doom had been sent, pleas from heaven and earth had been shouted to stop the abuse, the wastefulness of what only God could make and only He could restore. But deaf ears could not hear and blinded eyes refused to see that death and destruction would soon be in command. Coughing and wheezing, Arna realized her survival was not because she had been so good, no, it simply meant that the past needed a crier, an example and a link in the chain of history and a reference point for the future. The mucous in her lungs would soon choke out her life but not before she wrote down her life’s story just in case, God, in all his glory and mercy should decide to give mankind another chance.

The carcasses of men, women and children laid everywhere, their flesh blackened and melted by hell’s fires. Their faces wore looks of agony and surprise, shocked that they had actually died as a result of their own arrogance and disbelief. How sad, she thought as she stumbled over body after body, rotting carpet strewn across the landscape for miles around. Alone, hungry, sick, yet, still afraid to die, Arna searched for some sign of life as she shielded her nose from the stench with her filthy, blood-caked hands. As she waded through the sea of bodies she envied the dead, their misery mercifully snatched from their cold stiff fingers, and their blank stares serving as the final period of their life’s sentence. Although she had not eaten in days, her belly was full, filled with the poisonous fumes that filled the air, thick like ghosts, bitter to the taste, serving as a reminder that her end was near. Even in her weakened state, her survival instincts were wide awake and she knew she had to find food and water and shelter. Stumbling over blackened-to-a-crisp bodies, Arna cursed designer pumps. Her money could have been better spent on a gas mask and now her feet and ankles screamed aloud, calling her a crazy, vain fool. Fatigue tapped her on the shoulder and she longed for her 800-thread count sheets and down comforter. Nothing was left of her life or any life for that matter. How could this have happened and why was she still left to bare witness to it all.

To be continued...