A few weeks ago, I found myself working at a farm and ranch expo for my employer. Selling Internet to rural folks is what our business is all about, and there are plenty of rural folks at a farm and ranch expo.
One thing about a farm and ranch expo out in the middle of nowhere is there aren’t a lot of places to get some grub for lunch. At the expo, however, there was a little lunch counter. The neat thing is that lunch counter was hosted by the church I attend. The not so neat thing about that lunch counter is who was working it: the piano lady and her daughter.
I have had my share of run-ins with the piano lady and her daughter, but I have managed to remain unscathed. The piano lady plays piano at my church. Her daughter… well, is her daughter. These diabolical women tend to be… uh… kind of mean. I have long suspected that there may be some sort of evil workings constantly formulating in their methodical minds, but other than the occasional mean-spirited comments spouted in my general direction, I have little direct dealings with these dark ladies. And, I have never found myself face-to-face with either of them in the direct sunlight. They tend to stick to the shadows.
On this particular day at the farm and ranch expo, I found myself considering spending some of my hard-earned money on a little lunch.
Sitting at our booth, my coworker asked, “What are you doing for lunch?”
“Well, I thought I’d give the lunch counter a try,” I said. “And you?”
“Oh, I brought some organic lettuce to munch on,” said my coworker. He’s vegan… which means he eats crappy food.
I glanced at the lunch counter and saw both the piano lady and her daughter staring directly at me. Their cold, hard eyes locked on me and I momentarily lost all sensation in all parts of my body. I felt cold and everything around me began to spin. I don’t know how, and I don’t remember getting up and walking there, but the next thing I knew I was standing right in front of that lunch counter.
“Whaddaya want, ” said the piano lady, her beady little eyes darting all over my face but refusing to make contact with my eyes; it wasn’t so much a question as it was almost an accusation.
“Burger and fries, I guess,” I replied.
Suddenly, from out of the shadows in the back of the kitchen, the piano lady’s daughter appeared. Now, I can honestly not say that I saw her move to the location right behind the counter. She was just there, all at once. From the shadows at the back of the kitchen is the only place I can imagine she came from.
“We don’t have burgers and fries,” hissed the daughter, and I could swear I noticed a flash of fangs in her mouth as she spoke. “Can’t you read?”
“I don’t think he can read,” said the piano lady. “I don’t think he can read at all. Maybe he’s one of them dunces.” They both thought this was hilarious and their cackling laughter drove shivers up my spine.
“Well, what do you have?” I asked. I was not at all comfortable. I thought of returning to the booth where I was working, but I wanted to support my church’s efforts… and I was hungry.
“Read the menu,” said the daughter, motioning with her abnormally large head toward a small menu to the right of the counter. Her eyes, which I had previously thought to be brown, glared a yellowish orange similar to the picture I have in my head of what molten forces of a volcano look like right before they unleash their fury. I blinked in disbelief, and her eyes were brown once again.
“I guess… I guess I will take a chili… chili cheese dog,” I stammered.
“Learn how to talk in public, boy,” the piano lady said while leaning her face close to mine. Her warm breath held a hint of peppermint and rotting flesh.
“That it?” hissed the daughter.
“I’ll take a pop, I guess,” I said.
“What kinda pop you want?” hissed the daughter, her red gums framing the sharp teeth in her grimace.
“I guess I’ll take a Dr, Pepper,” I said.
“Why don’t you quit ‘guessing’ and grow a pair,” screamed the piano lady. “Show some spine!”
“A Dr. Pepper, please,” I whispered.
“We don’t have no Dr. Pepper,” hissed the daughter. “You’ll take a Pepsi.”
“Fine… yes… I like Pepsi,” I said. “Pepsi will… uh, yeah… be fine.”
Then, they both disappeared to the shadows at the back of the kitchen. I could neither hear nor see any trace of them. Behind me, I sensed a growing silence. The exhibit hall was full of vendors and visitors, but all of their falling footsteps and sales pitches and small talk grew quickly silent. I turned to find the exhibit hall dark…
A few feet ahead of me, the floor dissolved into nothingness. Nothing more than black silence stretched in all directions. Turning quickly around, I found the lunch counter swallowed by darkness as well. Fearing that I may have gone blind, I reached for where the counter should have been.
Nothing…
Panic spread quickly, and I began to call out.
“Hello! Is anybody there?”
Nothing.
I was terrified to walk. I couldn’t escape thoughts of falling into a bottomless chasm.
“Got your pop, boy.” The voice came from directly overhead. I couldn’t tell if it was the piano player or her daughter.
“And your chili dog.” This voice was different — younger. I suspected it was the daughter that spoke of the chili dog, and she seemed to be somewhere beneath me.
“What’s going on?” I said, the words almost catching in my throat. “Why is everything dark? Where is everybody?”
“Everything is as it should be,” said the older voice off to my left.
“Yes,” said the younger voice from somewhere behind me, “as it should be.”
I whirled around in hopes of catching sight of something… anything.
Nothing.
“I can’t see,” I whispered.
“We know,” said the younger voice from somewhere close.
“You won’t want to see what we’re gonna to do to you,” said the older voice right in front of me, filling my face with the scent of peppermint and rotting flesh.
I tried to run. My legs, like in a dream, refused to cooperate. I stood frozen as the voices danced around me.
“Got your Pepsi…”
“Got your chili cheese dog…”
“You one of them dunces…”
“Why don’t you grow a pair…”
I felt something cold brush against my arm and I jerked away. Putrid breath warmed the back of my neck as I heard, “You’re won’t want to see what we’re gonna do to you.”
Bright light exploded around me, so bright it was as blinding as the darkness that preceded it. I winced at the light as I felt strong, cold hands grasp me by the shoulders. I could barely make out the piano lady’s distorted face in front of me as her hands shoved me back. My legs continued in their resistance and stayed firmly attached to whatever they were standing on. I bent backwards, legs straight, as my back became parallel to where the floor should have been. I couldn’t understand how my spine was not snapping as the daughter sunk her claw-like fingers into my hair. She drew my face up to hers and smiled.
“You won’t want to see what we’re gonna do to you… but we want you to see,” the daughter laughed, then she opened her mouth. Her teeth like broken shards of stained porcelain: long, jagged, sharp. The black hole of her mouth grew larger and larger, surrounded by those shards, until she could have put my entire face in her mouth. Her yellow eyes looked directly into mine, then she bit. I could feel the shards piercing my cheeks and then penetrating the bone beneath, bone cracking in my ears, but my site was consumed in the blackness of her mouth. Her moist, dank breath filled my lungs as I tried to scream. My own blood gushed into my mouth through the wounds in my face. Vertigo set in and, as conscientiousness began to drift away, I could here my name called in the distance.
rich…
rich…
Rich…
“Rich!”
My coworker was shaking my shoulder.
“Rich, dude, what in the hell is wrong with you?”
I was sitting at our booth at the farm and ranch expo, staring at the lunch counter. Neither the piano lady nor her daughter were anywhere in sight.
“What…” I whispered, “… what happened?” I felt my face expecting my fingers to disappear into gaping wounds, the fresh coppery taste of my blood still on my tongue. My trembling fingers found no holes.
“You said you were going to go grab some grub at the lunch counter, and then you just zoned,” my coworker laughed. “You went deaf, dumb and blind for like twenty seconds!”
“Twenty seconds…” I couldn’t wrap my mind around whatever had just transpired. Apparently it wasn’t real? Only twenty seconds? Apparently I passed out… sitting up… or something… and had a dream?
“I’m going to go grab my organic lettuce and eat in the parking lot,” said my coworker as he stood and began putting on his coat. “Did you want to grab something at the lunch counter before I go?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I guess.”
I stood on legs that, although slightly shaking, were fully compliant and walked to the lunch counter. A fellow parishioner, a fellow by the name of Chris, was standing at the counter smiling.
“Hey, Rich,” said Chris.
“Hey,” I replied.
“Want some lunch?” Chris asked.
“Yeah, I think I do.” I didn’t want lunch. I wasn’t the least bit hungry. Why I even went to the lunch counter, I can’t say.
“What can I get you,” Chris asked.
Suddenly, from out of the shadows in the back of the kitchen, the piano lady’s daughter appeared. Now, I can honestly not say that I saw her move to the location right behind the counter. She was just there, all at once. From the shadows at the back of the kitchen is the only place I can imagine she came from.
“Uh… I’m… uh… I’ll,” I stammered. I couldn’t make my tongue work.
“Well?” asked the daughter. “We don’t have all day.” She was smiling, and I couldn’t detect any hint of fangs in that smile.
“I’ll take a chili cheese dog and a Pepsi,” I said.
“Coming right up,” Chris said, slapping the counter as if that somehow finalized the transaction.
Chris disappeared to the shadows at the back of the kitchen, and I dared a glance at the daughter who was wiping down the counter with a damp towel.
“It’s always nice to see someone who knows exactly what they want,” the daughter said, her eyes locked on her cleaning.
“Mmmhmm,” I agreed.
“Some people just don’t know what they want,” she said, raising her eyes to mine. They were brown. “And that can be kind of frustrating for us volunteers.”
“Mmmhmm,” I agreed.
Chris appeared again with my order, took my money, and gave me my change.
I returned to my booth thinking I must have lost my mind. Maybe I’d had a stroke? Maybe I should go to the hospital? Whatever it was, it had freaked me out and I didn’t want it happening again.
By the time I got home after the farm and ranch expo, the memory of my daymare was fading fast. The memory would have probably faded to the furthest recesses of my apparently failing mind for the rest of my eternity… if not for the local newspaper. Apparently, a reporter from the local rag had been at the expo taking random pictures for an article she was writing. Apparently, one of those pictures was of me ordering my lunch.
Not much strange about this picture, right? Me looking confused. Chris slapping the counter, wrapping up the deal. The daughter… smiling. Well, I saw this picture in our copy of the newspaper at work. Later that night, as I was crawling into bed, my hand nudged some paper under my pillow. From beneath my pillow, I retrieved another copy of that days newspaper. I don’t know how it got there, although I have my suspicions. The copy from beneath my pillow reeked… of peppermint and rotting flesh… and the picture in this copy was a little different from the picture I had seen earlier that day. Although I still don’t know what exactly happened to me at the farm and ranch expo, I am afraid… very afraid… and maybe you should be afraid too…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
