Thank You For Coming To This Admittedly Cryptic Dinner
I realize that dusk is upon us and you are likely feeling nervous and intrigued. You may be asking yourself, why am I here, I don’t know a single other person seated in this room. Who is this tuxedoed man before me, etc. I admire and empathize with your curiosity. First things first, sadly you did not each win an exclusive trip to the amusement park of your choice in a brand new Ford Focus hybrid. I made that up, part of an elaborate canard I have set into grotesque rococo motion.
Nonetheless, thanks to the five of you for accepting my invitations, it took a great deal of fortitude to piece together your identities and or email addresses, working nimbly like the fingers of a venerable cobbler of yesteryore, who in the lightless confines of his humble shop, decides to mend one more boot before clamoring into bed. I hope you appreciated the fonts I selected, san-serifs listed deep in the drop-down, selected only by the typographically daring. I hope the tone of the prose resonated with you. I gather the upsettingly lengthy Mapquest link was functional after all, take that fate.
A premature thank you also to the staff of Aegean Isles for renting me this lovely yet pleasingly standard space. The clearly superior decor of this semi-private side room, with its multi-mauve tufted vinyl banquettes, offers a familiar topography suitable for events of this nature. Out the window, the sightlines favor gazing westward into a nexus of expressway, heading back to the lurching suburban pavementscapes that probably define you.
Don’t bring the soup out yet. No. Not yet. Get back behind the partition, yes. Thank you. When I nod.
So why are you here? I have gathered you all from disparate corners of my travels through this blighted life as a critical representation of my core enemies. Consciously or not, you have irreparably crushed my honor and reputation in some shocking fashion, at some point. So, through a sequence of themed courses, you will behold my true feelings, purple and tender as the moment they were bruised. Mind you this is not a trial. I briefly researched whether I could somehow make this count as a real trial but the legal librarian who goes to my gym actually bared his teeth at me. As such, I can only serve as a judge of the moral justice.
OK, let’s get started. I only have the room until 6:15, there is a graduation party or some other contrivance coming in. First course, amuse bouche! Yes, the nod is the sign, the NOD is the SIGN. I refuse to wave like some drooling wretch good GOD.
The amuse bouche. The diner could not provide accommodations for a true one-bite gourmet experience, apparently natives of the Aegean Isles don’t need to tease their appetites in any fashion, so what is being served to you know is a single halved cashew. Chew it thoughtfully. This course is dedicated to you, the lady who mails me postcard reminders from my eye doctor. Broadcasting my medical exploits to any gaping savage whose hand it passes through, as though my personal affairs were a flyer for some kind of traveling road show. For shame! Is an envelope too much to ask? Am I not worth the price of a full-fledged stamp? Thank you for coming and goddamn you entirely, Sandra or Sah-ndra, I couldn’t possibly know which.
Which brings us to the appetizer. Have faith that it is indeed chicken and a type of domestic rice. It appears there is a slightly glistening membrane on the soup surface; I’ve been assured it’s purposeful. Speaking of thin skin, this course is dedicated to the Montegrasso Brothers, locally known furniture dealers who on April 11th coarsely escorted me from their establishment for simply inspecting an Asian sideboard. There I am, my gilded tapping hammer in hand, testing each piece of furniture for the quality promised in the commercial, when before I knew it I am sandwiched between the shoulders of opposing Montegrassos, nearly lifted clean out of my moccasins, and deposited into the punishing sun of the parking lot. For shame! Because of this indiscretion I shall never again browse your vast hangars of seductively discounted home goods. Unless you will let me!
Ahem. We’ve arrived at the entree. Due to limited dining package options and inscrutable break schedule of the waitstaff, this part of the meal is buffet style. Just get up and grab something from that exposed folding table. Don’t leave, you can’t, I had all your jackets hidden.
This course is for you, aging friends of my Uncle Blaire, who at my tenth birthday party openly mocked a magic trick I was attempting. It hurt, gentlemen on the left who sold boats, and bolero-wearing orthopedic surgeon on the right. Scarred by your indifference, to this day, I am afraid of amateur hand magic. For shame! Nevertheless, if I had two medium lengths of jute, a coin with a hole drilled in the middle, a baking soda slurry, a tiny plastic funnel, and step by step directions, I guarantee I would dazzle you this evening.
6pm. Dim the sconces. Dim them. Nope, that is off. OK, put them back on. On.
Ah, dessert. Each fine meal deserve a sweet conclusion. As such, this course is for you all. I offer you a treat I believe will leave you speechless, or at least…tongue-tied…up! Throw the nets! Throw the nets now! What is the matter with you? I was nodding! Aren’t you a sea-faring people? You’re a godforsaken nation of net-menders!
Well, here we are. I was going to leave you all entangled in heavy nylon cast nets until guests from the ensuing party arrived, at which point they would behold you with an unbearable wave of quizzical derision, causing you each to cry out in a depraved chorus of remorse. We still have rice pudding. I had them leave the raisins on top both for decoration and easy removal.
I’m going to use the restroom now. I promise you all and the staff of Aegean Isles that I will be back in just a few moments so do not worry or block my exit or bar the doors or become alarmed. Thank you.
