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Stiffed

Jim Meirose

    Ronald tooled his orange Buick down International Drive, heading for Sand Lake Road. He had a sheaf of the terrible things in his pocket. He meant to get rid of it.
    At the steak house, the customer glanced up at the waiter after consulting the menu lying open to the side..
    I’ll have the Lump crabmeat tossed in house vinaigrette with creole remoulade sauce, please.
    Of course, said the waiter, smoothing down the front of his gleaming white shirt.
    —good choice—
    Ronald needed to be rid of them. He drove up to the stoplight and once more thought, I will get rid of them.
    When the customer had finished the crabmeat, the waiter sidled up to the table.
    Decided? he said sweetly, taking the empty plate.
    I’ll have the Barbecued shrimp now, said the customer, his finger pressed atop the menu.
    Another appetizer? Of course, sir. —odd—
    It’s just a matter of time, and effort, thought Ronald. I needed to get up off my ass and go someplace to get rid of this stuff.
    The shrimp were gone in short order.
    So now, sir—are you ready to order your entree?
    The customer looked up from the menu.
    I think I’ll have the Remoulade Shrimp Cocktail.
    This is your third appetizer sir. Most unusual.
    I know—but I’ll take home what I can’t finish,
    All right sir, said the waiter, turning away.
    —most odd—
    Once and for all, thought Ronald. But more keeps coming.
    The waiter came up.
    I can’t finish this, said the customer. I’ll take it home with me—tell you what—just put it on the table there, I might pick at it.
    Of course sir. But now—what about your entree?
    Not yet, said the customer, his finger pressed to the menu. I’ll have these Mushrooms stuffed with crabmeat first.
    The waiter said nothing this time, just smiled wryly.
    —every appetizer. He’s having every appetizer—
    What I get rid of today will be replaced tomorrow, thought Ronald. But at least I can have some peace tonight.
    The halfeaten plate of stuffed mushrooms set before the customer. The waiter came up.
    Sir? he said, picking up the plate. Ready now?
    No. Get me this Seared ahi tuna now.
    But sir—I must say—its unusual to have so many appetizers.
    I’m hungry. And just leave those mushrooms on the table there. I might decide to pick at them.
    All right sir. If you say so.
    Sure—whatever I can’t eat—we’ll just stack on that table over there and I’ll take it home. Okay?
    All right sir.
    —what kind of weirdo is this?—
    At least I can get some satisfaction tonight, thought Ronald, gripping the steering wheel hard. I can get rid of all I have.
    The barely touched tuna now set to the side and was placed on the table with the other uneaten food.
    Ready for your entree now sir? said the waiter, rubbing his hands together.
    No. I’ll take these sizzling blue crab cakes, said the customer, finger still pressed to the menu.
    The waiter turned around and rolled his eyes out of sight of the customer, and headed for the kitchen.
    —lord God. Lord, lord God—
    I will sleep easier tonight, thought Ronald. The light turned green and he turned left onto Sand Lake Road.
    What now sir, said the waiter after placing the uneaten crab cakes on the other table.
    This next thing. This veal osso buco ravioli.
    Okay sir. But this is most unusual—
    I’m good for it, snapped the customer and flashing his bright blue eyes at the waiter. So what it’s unusual.
    Turning away, the waiter said nothing.
    —that’s right what do I care what he orders get a grip on yourself get a grip get a grip—
    Ronald knew a place he could go to get rid of a good bit of it. Maybe all of it, if he had the guts.
    The waiter came up. He reached for the barely touched plate of ravioli.
    Sir? Shall I stack this over here? You must be about stuffed by now with all these appetizers—
    The customer shook his head and pointed into the menu.
    Soup now. I’ll have this Louisiana seafood gumbo.
    All right.
    —what’s with this guy he’s stuffed already why’s he ordering more—
    Now Ronald had to look for the place. 7501 Sand Lake Road.
    The soup bowl lay empty.
    Sir. Finished?
    No. I’ll have the Lobster bisque now.
    —my God—
    Stores went by Ronald. Red, and blue and green.
    The customer took two spoonfuls of bisque before pushing the plate away. The waiter came up.
    Sir. That it now?
    The menu page turned.
    No. I’ll take the sliced tomato and onion salad.
    Salad?
    Yes.
    —I want to shout at him aren’t you full—
    Yes sir.
    All the stores made a blur. Here’s a strip mall.
    The customer pushed away the barely touched salad.
    What’ll it be now sir? About done now—
    No. I’ll have the Steak house salad now. Just put this over there with the rest of the food I’m taking home.
    The waiter’s eyes widened.
    —he’ll never eat it—he’ll never touch it—
    Yes sir, he said, turning toward the kitchen.
    There’s another strip mall on the other side. Ronald couldn’t even make out the names of the places it was all going by so fast. The fastmoving traffic was horrid.
    Just put what’s left of this salad over there. I’ll take it home too.
    Are we all done now sir?
    No, said the customer, drumming his fingers on the table. I’ll have the caeser salad now.
    —lord God where will it end—
    Yes sir.
    The traffic pushed Ronald along too fast. There was a Citgo though. He made out the name.
    C-I-T-G-O.
    The customer waved away the caeser salad.
    I couldn’t even start that. Just put it over there I’ll take it home too.
    Are we full now sir? Can I bring you some coffee—
    No. Bring me the chop salad.
    But you said you were full—
    Just bring it and put it on the table over there for me to take home. I need to save room for my main course.
    —main course—save room? There’s room? I—
    Of course sir. That makes sense.
    Ronald pulled up to the minimart at the Citgo and quickly went inside.
    Are you sure you want me to put this salad on the table over here? Or do you want to taste it—
    Put it on the table. And bring me a spinach salad and put that on the table too.
    You’re going to buy all this?
    Yes I am. What kind of question is that? What do you think I’m some kind of deadbeat—
    Oh no sir. I’m sorry sir. All right sir.
    Where is 7501 West Sand Lake, Ronald asked the toothy young thin man behind the minimart register.
    I don’t know, nodded the toothy man.
    Here, sir. Your spinach salad. Will that be all?
    The customer’s finger moved down the menu.
    No. Bring me this Lettuce wedge and put it over there.
    All right sir.
    —he’s out of his mind he’s absolutely out of his mind—
    The toothy young thin man licked his tongue along the top of his bottom row of teeth in a disgusting manner and closed his thicklipped mouth.
    Thanks anyway, Ronald said.
    There sir, said the waiter, placing the lettuce wedge on the table to the side. Will that be all—
    No. I’ll have my entree now. Here, he said, lifting the menu. Bring me this Filet with mashed potatoes and sauteed mushrooms.
    The waiter forced himself not to grimace.
    —lord—I want to ask him if he’s sure but I’ve offended him once I better not ask him—
    Fine choice sir. It’ll be right out.
    Ronald quickly went back to his car and pulled back out of the gas station into the flow of traffic. He must have passed the place already. Yes.
    The filet was brought out. The customer ate it greedily.
    When the plates were all empty, the waiter came up.
    —my God he cleaned his plate he did have room—
    Will that be all now sir?
    No. Bring me this Petite filet with a baked potato and french fried onion rings.
    To stack over there sir? Do you want it packaged to take home—
    No. I want it on plates. To stack over there. Whatever I don’t eat gets stacked over there. On plates.
    You’re not going to eat it—
    No. I just want it on the table over there. On plates. Why is there something wrong with that?
    No sir.
    —Jesus Christ almighty—
    It was supposed to have been a half mile from the intersection on the right, thought Ronald. Maybe in one of those strip malls?
    The customer changed his mind and ate about half of the petite filet and then pushed the plate away.
    —surely he’s done now—
    Coffee now sir?
    No. Bring me this ribeye with au gratin potatoes and broiled tomatoes and stack it over there.
    Well—why don’t I just box it up for you to take home—
    No. Actually, put it before me. I might pick some.
    Yes sir.
    —nobody’s ever going to believe this—could this be candid camera maybe I’m on that old show candid camera do they still have candid camera do they—
    Maybe, thought Ronald. After making a reckless U turn in the plunging traffic, he headed back toward the intersection.
    Well—will that be all sir?
    No. Stack it over there and bring me this cowboy ribeye with steak fries and fresh broccoli.
    —no this can’t go on it’s a waste of food—
    Are you sure sir?
    The waiter cast his eye over the next table, which was stacked high with uneaten or partially eaten dishes.
    Yes I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure?
    Oh—sorry sir. Yes sir.
    Ronald needed to get rid of it. With every moment that went by it burned at him worse.
    The cowboy ribeye came, but the customer waved it aside.
    Stack it over there, he told the waiter. Instead bring me the new york strip with julienne potatoes and fresh spinach.
    That sounds pretty good yeah that sounds real good.
    —is he going to pay for all this—
    I must ask. Are you sure sir?
    Of course I’m sure. I am never not sure.
    —candid camera yes it must be candid camera—
    Fine sir. Coming right up.
    Ronald pulled it from his pocket and threw it on the passenger seat. It lay there wrapped in black with an arrogant look.
    Out came the entree. The customer picked at it a bit and then called the waiter over.
    Put this over there. I can’t finish it.
    Yes, sir—coffee now sir—
    No. I’ll take this porterhouse for two with shoestring potatoes and creamed spinach
    —Jesus Christ! The porterhouse for two—
    All right, said the waiter. He bit his lip hard.
    Though it was not a living thing, it had a stink about it. A stink you could not smell, a stink that you could see.
    The waiter brought the entree and the customer waved it aside.
    No, he said, shaking the menu. Stack that on the table there. Instead, bring me this T-bone with lyonnaise potatoes and spinach au gratin. I think I’m in the mood for that.
    Numbed by now, without surprise the waiter carefully stacked the meal atop the others, and headed for the kitchen.
    Ronald tried not to look at it lying there as he drove and made a quick left into a strip mall parking lot. He meant to go into some place, any place, to ask for directions but then he realized it was Sunday and everything was closed.
    Shall I put this meal on the table with the others sir? said the waiter when he brought the new entree. Or do you want to eat it?
    Put it on the table over there. Bring me these fall seasonal special venison chops with blackberry sauce with a sweet potato casserolle and fresh asparagus.
    Good choice sir! snapped the waiter, half-sarcastically. He headed for the kitchen.
    —crazy’s not a word for this. There are no words for this—there’s something funny going on here there’s got to be something funny behind this—
    Ronald walked along the locked storefronts and at last came to a restaurant. A Thai restaurant.
    Put it over there, said the customer when the new food came. Put it over there and bring me the Petite filet and shrimp with mashed potatoes and sauteed mushrooms.
    The waiter stood there.
    —I have to ask—
    Why are you doing this sir?
    What difference does it make? I’m good for it. Now bring me what I asked for.
    He went into the shadows within.
    A stickthin Thai came up.
    The waiter brought out the meal and motioned to the fully laden table next to the customer’s.
    Do you want me to stack it over here sir? Or do you want to eat it?
    By now the other waiters were gathered in clusters and motioning toward the customer and the table full of meals and murmuring amongst themselves.
    Stack it over there. And what are those waiters over there gaping at?
    Well—this is a bit unusual sir.
    Well—never mind how unusual it is and bring me the Veal chop with sweet and hot peppers and a baked potato with french fried onion rings. And bring it fast!
    Okay!
    —he’s ordering everything on the menu—I bet he’s going to end up ordering everything on the menu—I feel like an accomplice to something awful—yes something awful behind this is something awful—
    The waiter got to the door of the kitchen and the cooks peered out the door at the customer, who sat with his arms folded looking up at the ceiling.
    Do you know where 7501 West Sand Lake is?
    The steak house? said the Thai.
    The waiter brought the meal.
    Shall I put this before you or stack it over here, he said flatly.
    Hmm—put it before me. He tore into the veal chop and chewed it in a exaggerated manner. He took three bites and pushed the plate away.
    Put it over there, he told the waiter. Put it over there, and bring me the Lamb chops with au gratin potatoes and broiled tomatoes.
    Yes sir.
    The other waiters still stood in a cluster and murmered among themselves.
    Yes, said Ronald. The steak house.
    The Thai looked down, then up and cocked back his head.
    The meal came.
    Over here or before you?
    Over there. And now bring me the stuffed chicken breast with steak fries and fresh broccoli.
    Okay.
    No I do not know where it is, said the stickthin Thai.
    Thank you anyway, Ronald said.
    The chicken breast came. The customer asked for it to be put before him and he lustily ate three big mouthfuls of the chicken and a large piece of broccoli and called the waiter over.
    Put this over there and bring me the fresh lobster with Julienne potatoes and fresh spinach.
    Ronald dashed back outside. It was burning in his pocket where he’d put it back.
    The waiter brought the lobster.
    Over here or before you?
    Over there. I don’t like lobster.
    —well why order the damned thing then—
    As the waiter stacked the plates on the other table atop all the others the customer said Now bring me the market fresh seafood selection with shoestring potatoes and creamed spinach.
    I thought you didn’t like seafood—
    Lobster I said I didn’t like—but I like fish.
    All right sir.
    The novelty of the situation having worn off, the other waiters dispersed and also began to get busy waiting on other customers who had come in, all of whom stared at the table piled high with uneaten meals before sitting at their own.
    Ronald needed to get there. He needed to get rid of it.
    Here you are sir—you said you liked fish—
    He waved it aside.
    No. Put it with the rest. Bring me the Grilled portobello mushrooms with lyonnaise potatoes and spinach au gratin.
    Yessir.
    —just do as you’re told. That’s all you can do is do as you’re told—see how this ends how will it all end—
    The customer cast an idle glance about the room. No one was paying any attention to him now. Good, he thought.
    Good.
    Ronald came up to a CVS pharmacy, open. He went inside and went up to the counter and waited patiently his turn in line and at last stood facing the elderly cashier.
    The waiter came up with a full tray. The customer waved it aside.
    Instead bring me the ahi-tuna stack with a sweet potato casserole and fresh asparagus.
    Ah, fish again sir. Good choice.
    —lord god I can’t believe I said that. What a waiter I am what a God-damned good waiter I am—
    The waiter smiled. He headed for the kitchen after stacking the food on the table.
    —wait until I tell my wife about this—she’s not going to believe it wait until I tell my wife about this—this is a once in a lifetime thing a once in a lifetime thing is happening to me—this is special—
    He disappeared into the kitchen. A sudden peal of laughter could be heard from behind the kitchen door. The customer looked up.
    Must have been a good joke, he thought.
    Where is 7501 West Sand Lake, Ronald asked. His voice quavered.
    No, said the customer as the next entree arrived. Stack it over there. Instead bring me the Cold water lobster tail with mashed potatoes and sauteed mushrooms.
    I thought you said you didn’t like lobster—
    Just bring it!
    Stung by the customer’s tone, the waiter’s hands shook as he stacked the food with all the rest and headed back to the kitchen.
    —what a snot—what about if I were to call him the crazy bastard he is—well one thing this is going to be a hell of a bill I better get a hell of a tip wait maybe I ought to tell the manager about this this guy’s never going to pay for all this yes I need to talk to the manager—
    Oh, said a spike-haired young woman working at a counter behind the cashier. That’s the steak house. Its at the end of this strip mall.
    A full-bellied middle aged man in a blue shirt and tie came up to the customer’s table. He eyed the large stack of food on the next table and smiled down at the customer.
    Everything all right sir? Are you happy with the food and the service?
    Oh, the food and the service are great, smiled the customer.
    Is there anything I can get you? Anything special?
    The waiter hovered behind the manager with the lobster tail dinner on a tray.
    Well, said the customer. I’m feeling about full. Put that over there and bring me the caramelized banana cream pie. I’m ready for dessert.
    The manager and the waiter exchanged glances.
    Good choice sir. Coming right up.
    This very strip mall? said Ronald to the girl.
    Yes.
    The banana cream pie came and the customer ate about three quarters of it and then called over the waiter.
    Sir?
    Take this away and bring me the Warm apple crumb tart.
    —even with dessert—he plays his stupid game—
    Oh thank you, said Ronald.
    He left the CVS and dashed to his car.
    The tart came out. The customer waved it aside.
    I’ll have the Cheesecake instead. Put this over there.
    Yes sir.
    —yes sir yes sir yes sir yes sir bleahhhhh—
    At last, thought Ronald. At last I can get rid of it.
    The cheesecake came. The customer ate half of it. The waiter came up.
    Put it over there. Bring me the Bread pudding with whiskey sauce now.
    I’m going to go in there, thought Ronald.
    I’m going to get rid of it all.
    He ate all the bread pudding, surprising the waiter. At last, he must be finished.
    Coffee sir?
    No. I’ll have the chocolate sin cake.
    And next, the creme brulee.
    Ronald pushed the Buick flat out toward the far end of the long strip mall. The place was there—there!
    Good, said the customer. That was good. Now bring me the Fresh seasonal berries with sweet cream sauce.
    Yes sir.
    The inside of the car stank of it. But he would be rid of it soon.
    Now I’ll have Ice Cream.
    Ronald pulled up to the steak house and ran for the door.
    Lastly, I’ll have the sorbet.
    Ronald burst through the doors, leapt into the customer, ate the sorbet, and at last, rising, pulled the terrible thing from his pocket and threw it on the table. It spread across the table; a mass of horrid germs.
    The waiter came up, followed by the manager.
    You done sir—
    Damn right I’m done. And here—
    He stepped to the table piled high with meals and dishes and gripped the edge with both hands, and threw it over. A tremendous crash swept the room; the other customers stopped talking and eating and some leapt to their feet; and he pulled a sheaf of more of the horrid things from his pocket and threw them down atop the mass of food and broken crockery.
    There. That should cover it. That’s all I have.
    He looked the stunned waiter in the eye.
    And thanks.
    He went out and drove off, satisfied for now. He would go to his hotel and revel in the loss of it.
    But there would be more, tomorrow.
    And tomorrow.
    But he would get rid of it.
    He would keep getting rid of it until the day he died.
    Back at the restaurant, the waiter clenched his fists as the bus boys cleaned up the mess and the misty aura of strangeness slowly lifted from the room.
    —no tip, he thought—All that—
    —and no god damned tip.

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