short story concerning you
The aftermath left me in a kind of paradoxical rage. The kind you can’t really do anything about. So I did the only thing a sane person in my situation would do. I ate.
I never understood why people kept going to Chinese Buffets. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. And the truth is, they all suck. It’s American Food dipped in Soy sauce with a foreign name.
(“Hmm… I’ll have the Chicken and Broccoli, those big, deep fried dough balls dipped in sugar …and some chicken nuggets.”)
I guess it’s an ancient Chinese secret or something. Make all buffets suck, but don’t tell the public so they’ll got to every restaurant in town looking for one that doesn’t serve synthetic crab.
So here I am. Without you, but your sarcasm lingers, like you’re still here. That’s what I love about you. Every time we’ve ever departed, your last words were salt in my wounds. It made me crazy. All I could think about from the time we left until the time we met again was what I was going to say to you as soon as I saw you again. Exactly what I thought of you; whatever the latest pneumatic, slightly immature retort was at the time. It never worked. As soon as I saw you again, those eyes made me feel like the bad guy. God, I hate those eyes. They made it seem like there was two of you. The spiteful one that made me feel inadequate time after time. The one that hurt us. Then there was the other you. The one that made me love you. You. The same you that sang songs to me before we fell asleep each night. The first time I woke up to every morning, you made the sun set and I could see the stars in your eyes. God, I love those eyes.
The first thing that came to mind when I walked in was pigs at a sty. Swallowing the gut instinct I had to throw up, I grabbed a plate and joined them.
I think the main ingredient at all buffets (I’m almost done dissing on you guys) is lard. I was about to settle on some green jell-o and fat-encrusted watermelon, when I decided I had no reason to live. So I said to hell with it and loaded my plate with every thing within a 3-yard radius of me, dead or alive.
Half and hour and 12 pounds later, just as I thought I was done, my thoughts returned, inevitably, to you.
And I was disgusted with myself. What would you think of me when I told you that I had eaten half weight of the population of Africa? Then I remembered it didn’t matter.
I looked around at everyone there. Well, they couldn’t all be depressed so what was their reason for eating so much? So many fat, greasy people. All with that same tent-sized sweatshirt and sweatpants combo. All of them trying so hard (with no avail) to cover up years of all-you-can-eat marathons with “the fabric of our lives”. And all of their poor children, already destined to be bus-sized.
And suddenly it was too much. The smells and those people and that food and you. I was so thirsty, dying. Soda had to clear that lump in my throat before my eyes did. The realization of it all was too much. I drank till my cup was empty. The feeling had vanished, replaced by brain-freeze. Ironic?
I looked at the mountains of plates I had accumulated in my search to kill my pain and decided it was time to take my leave. With as much as a newly single, soon to be fat asshole could muster; I placed $2 next to a wad of used napkins and walked to the restroom before I left. After attempting to wash both the grease and sin simultaneously off my hands, I walked past my table once more on my way out. It was glistening with cleaner. Every thing was gone. The plates, the crumbs, the cup, the napkins, wiped clean. Anger came back in me. The history of that meal, my history, the emotions that took place, all wiped away. Nobody has the right to replace a memory. To morph it into past, then nonexistence. With no one else to remember it, how do you even know if it really happened, maybe it was imagined. And they didn’t care either. No one ever does. The next customers sat down there. It was like I never existed.
Is that how you feel about me now?
I saw your new lover a few days ago. I began to walk closer. To warn them that when the time came and they were your dirty dishes that you would wipe your memory clean again. Then I saw you.
Instead I walked toward a Golden Corral.
Capin’ Sparrow
2 April 2005- 3 April 2005
7:34pm-12:15pm
I never understood why people kept going to Chinese Buffets. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. And the truth is, they all suck. It’s American Food dipped in Soy sauce with a foreign name.
(“Hmm… I’ll have the Chicken and Broccoli, those big, deep fried dough balls dipped in sugar …and some chicken nuggets.”)
I guess it’s an ancient Chinese secret or something. Make all buffets suck, but don’t tell the public so they’ll got to every restaurant in town looking for one that doesn’t serve synthetic crab.
So here I am. Without you, but your sarcasm lingers, like you’re still here. That’s what I love about you. Every time we’ve ever departed, your last words were salt in my wounds. It made me crazy. All I could think about from the time we left until the time we met again was what I was going to say to you as soon as I saw you again. Exactly what I thought of you; whatever the latest pneumatic, slightly immature retort was at the time. It never worked. As soon as I saw you again, those eyes made me feel like the bad guy. God, I hate those eyes. They made it seem like there was two of you. The spiteful one that made me feel inadequate time after time. The one that hurt us. Then there was the other you. The one that made me love you. You. The same you that sang songs to me before we fell asleep each night. The first time I woke up to every morning, you made the sun set and I could see the stars in your eyes. God, I love those eyes.
The first thing that came to mind when I walked in was pigs at a sty. Swallowing the gut instinct I had to throw up, I grabbed a plate and joined them.
I think the main ingredient at all buffets (I’m almost done dissing on you guys) is lard. I was about to settle on some green jell-o and fat-encrusted watermelon, when I decided I had no reason to live. So I said to hell with it and loaded my plate with every thing within a 3-yard radius of me, dead or alive.
Half and hour and 12 pounds later, just as I thought I was done, my thoughts returned, inevitably, to you.
And I was disgusted with myself. What would you think of me when I told you that I had eaten half weight of the population of Africa? Then I remembered it didn’t matter.
I looked around at everyone there. Well, they couldn’t all be depressed so what was their reason for eating so much? So many fat, greasy people. All with that same tent-sized sweatshirt and sweatpants combo. All of them trying so hard (with no avail) to cover up years of all-you-can-eat marathons with “the fabric of our lives”. And all of their poor children, already destined to be bus-sized.
And suddenly it was too much. The smells and those people and that food and you. I was so thirsty, dying. Soda had to clear that lump in my throat before my eyes did. The realization of it all was too much. I drank till my cup was empty. The feeling had vanished, replaced by brain-freeze. Ironic?
I looked at the mountains of plates I had accumulated in my search to kill my pain and decided it was time to take my leave. With as much as a newly single, soon to be fat asshole could muster; I placed $2 next to a wad of used napkins and walked to the restroom before I left. After attempting to wash both the grease and sin simultaneously off my hands, I walked past my table once more on my way out. It was glistening with cleaner. Every thing was gone. The plates, the crumbs, the cup, the napkins, wiped clean. Anger came back in me. The history of that meal, my history, the emotions that took place, all wiped away. Nobody has the right to replace a memory. To morph it into past, then nonexistence. With no one else to remember it, how do you even know if it really happened, maybe it was imagined. And they didn’t care either. No one ever does. The next customers sat down there. It was like I never existed.
Is that how you feel about me now?
I saw your new lover a few days ago. I began to walk closer. To warn them that when the time came and they were your dirty dishes that you would wipe your memory clean again. Then I saw you.
Instead I walked toward a Golden Corral.
Capin’ Sparrow
2 April 2005- 3 April 2005
7:34pm-12:15pm