How dare they?
Lyle gripped the glass bowl, white-knuckled, teeth clenched. He took a slow breath, fighting down the urge to smash it into a thousand pieces. Six years of faithful service. Getting up in the middle of the night to set up the kitchen. All for when that fat bastard waddled in at seven, wearing that ridiculous hat and picking god-knows-what out of his mangy attempt at a mustache.
Images on the television shifted relentlessly, bright colors drawing his attention. The upper left corner of the screen still read MUTE from his mother’s visit weeks ago. She’d informed him the deafening noise was too distracting. He’d only smiled. All he cared about was the news scrolling along the bottom, summarized in five and six word sentences.
He sighed and placed the bowl next to the cooktop. Light erupted outside as another rock slammed to the ground somewhere nearby.
UN peacekeepers roll into Gaza. President under fire from Congressional opposition. Meteorite “INVASION” continues despite FEMA assurances.
He whisked an ounce of whole milk into the bright orange yolk. These new, exotic types really did produce a more vibrant color. He stuck the tip of his finger into the glass mixing bowl and flicked a gooey bead into the frying pan.
A week ago, they’d brought him into the office. Social Services had sent over a girl, not more than fifteen, to translate. He’d seen chimps that could sign better, but the message was clear despite her best efforts to muddle it up.
Chez Neuf no longer needs you, she’d signed. People just don’t normally eat out during a crisis. Etienne has seniority. They’ll call you when things settle down.
The droplet hopped and danced silently along the hot stainless surface, burning to a tiny cinder within seconds, lost in the grain of the steel.
Almost, he thought.
Lunar mining causing meteors, critics say. NASA denies liability for damaged homes. Murder rate up in NYC.
The fist-sized rocks had rained down all over the world for weeks. Lunids, the astronomers had dubbed them. All the news services were excitedly reporting they’d been spotted on every continent now, even Antarctica. Some places in high concentrations.
A columnist in the morning paper had joked that the earth was being salted and peppered by evil alien intelligences, hungry for fresh flavors.
Oh, yes. Pepper.
He took the pepper from the spice rack above the recessed television, stirred the bowl again and scraped a heaping gob of butter from the spatula into the pan. The butter ran to the middle, bubbling around the edges. The rich smell filled his nostrils.
Oh, yes. They’d regret keeping Etienne. He’d shop this recipe around. Someone would recognize his talent, his genius.
FEMA teams dispatched with hearing protection. Hotel heiress arrested in Milan. SETI director resigns after hotel scandal.
Hearing protection? He laughed. Never been so good to be me.
The FEMA crews were having a devil of a time collecting the meteorites, all of which were roughly the same size. Something about a piercing tone they produced whenever anyone got within a few yards. Made a few people lose it completely. Sent them running like frightened children, clutching their heads.
Craziness. What are you gonna do about it anyway? You really gonna stop rocks falling from the sky? You go, FEMA.
Got to be a better way.
He dumped the contents of the bowl into the waiting pan, sliding it back and forth to prevent sticking, and let the rush of smoke pour upwards into his face. A little shredded cheddar and a half-filled cup of maple-flavored sausage chunks.
Oh, yeah.
Droplets of hot butter splattered up onto his hands and arms, each little sting causing him to wince.
Middle school steroids — special report tonight. Oil scandal rocks United Nations. Meteorites have thick crystalline shell.
Tilting the pan above the oscillating glow of the cooktop, Lyle slid a spatula under the omelet and flipped the edge inward, folding it. Seconds later, he let the steaming creation slide from the pan onto a plate and switched off the electricity.
Toast already spread with jelly and orange juice poured in a frosted glass. All arranged on a small wooden tray, fork and napkin included. A feng shui breakfast.
Nice.
Picking up the tray and turning, his elbow bumped the mixing bowl and it tumbled to the floor, smashing, tiny shards of glass biting at his bare legs.
With a sigh, he began to place the plate on the counter in order to clean up his mess, but reconsidered.
No. Breakfast first. Then clean.
Wind and rain pummels Midwest. Caruthers pulls out of Senate race. Lunid contents are complex organic compounds.
He stepped out onto the deck, almost tripping over a wayward claw hammer, and sat on the steps leading down to the lawn. Tray resting across his legs, he breathed deeply and slowly. Peace in, anger out. A cool autumn breeze softened the sunlight beating on his forehead and thinning hair. Beautiful day.
He’d left the television and closed captioning unit on but that could wait. Wait with the shattered bowl on the floor.
Dead leaves danced noiselessly, caught in a little whirlwind at the base of the steps. The grassy slope swept downward towards the bay. Rays of yellow light glinted on the water and little rainbows sprung from the dozen or so meteorites scattered around his yard. They really were everywhere.
The hollow shell of yesterday’s morning entrée lay behind him near the kitchen door. Compost or rock garden? He couldn’t decide.
A whole week with no ill effects. A masterpiece bigger than this petty disaster.
Taking a mouthful, he began to chew.
William Wood dreams of the day when he can rest upon his laurels in a beautiful mountaintop fortress, surrounded by a library of his own greatest works. Until then he lives in the Shenandoah Valley with his wife and children — who are very tolerant.
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14 Responses to “RECIPE • by William Wood”
Comments
« TENDER • by G. Lloyd Helm | Home | LEGENDS COLLIDE • by J.C. Towler »
July 2nd, 2009 at 4:43 am
Quite an unusual sci-fi story. Liked it. Although its flow was a bit confusing in places, a second read made it all clear.
July 2nd, 2009 at 5:14 am
A nice confluence of ideas. Not taken with the final image of the piece – a guy chewing – but that’s just me being mildly squeamish. A solid 4.
July 2nd, 2009 at 5:44 am
I really enjoyed this story. As the first commenter noted, a second reading helped. I liked the “scroll-by-news” on the TV for passing on information of the outside world to the reader. Great attention to small details without being over the top.
July 2nd, 2009 at 6:14 am
The beginning of the story was confusing, it looked like he was making breakfast for the “fat bastard” and it took quite a while to figure out that he was doing his own breakfast.
The concept–the “lunids”– was interesting, but I didn’t find it developed too much, and the ending sort of left things hanging. He was happy because he was already deaf and therefore couldn’t be harmed by the meteorites? Maybe I just don’t get it at all!
July 2nd, 2009 at 7:04 am
I got wrapped up in this one early and when it turned into a science fiction story, the knot was pulled tight. Liked the writing, liked the story, liked everything except that it ended. Bring on the novella or novel or just a longer short story, but this is no more than an appetizer!
–John
July 2nd, 2009 at 7:09 am
I read this twice, not sure I got it all but it certinally was a nice story with lots of detail.
July 2nd, 2009 at 8:17 am
I enjoyed this one. A compelling read.
July 2nd, 2009 at 8:19 am
I dutifully looked up feng shui in the dictionary and Wikipedia, and although it was not very informative, I gather it means something like “balance in life in all ways.” With all the attention-demanding on all levels – small like the bowl, the breakfast, the great like wars and murders, the all encompassing like the entire earth threatened by meteors, what is it that nags throughout the entire length of time? UNEMPLOYMENT and possible ill health which might causes it. How true. I felt it nagging throughout the entire narrative. Good story.
July 2nd, 2009 at 8:31 am
Really well written and very descriptive. The problem is though, that even though I read it twice, I don’t get it. I understand what happened to the main character overall, but I don’t really understand where the story goes. I’ll check back for more comments that perhaps can explain it to me.
July 2nd, 2009 at 9:20 am
HUH?
July 2nd, 2009 at 10:18 am
Interesting story. The beginning was a little confusing, but once I figured out what was going on, I really liked it. I especially enjoyed reading about a deaf character — there aren’t enough of those in fiction these days. It’s an interesting perspective. And it was awesome that something most people would see as a disability became his saving grace. Very cool!
July 2nd, 2009 at 11:26 am
Like the old grandpa at the end of Moonstruck, I’m confused. Organic compounds inside crystal shells–are lunids some kind of egg? If so, why are they falling as a result of lunar mining? If not, why is Lyle making omelettes out of them? Why are we told twice that the mixing bowl is glass before he shatters it? Why is Lyle sitting out on the deck when fist-sized hard objects are whizzing from space? I know he can’t hear them, but seems to me like they could do his skull some damage.
I shouldn’t have to work so hard to understand a story.
July 2nd, 2009 at 3:00 pm
The descriptions really pulled me in, made me a little hungry. It wasn’t hard to get in this guy’s head, a sign of good character development.
July 3rd, 2009 at 11:42 pm
I enjoyed this. With the actions of MC cooking while the reader learns, through his thoughts and the TV what is going on, it’s very visual.
It leaves me wondering what happens next to Lyle and the world.