Legions of the Undead

 

Winter months approach quickly, without fail.
  See energy travels from hot too cold.
My blood is drained, and as I grow more pale,
  Someone makes money when my blood is sold.
What don’t kill us only makes us stronger.
  You, wishing they would not gang up on, you.
One fist hits harder, their arms reach longer.

  You’re strong, don’t patronize one of the few.

Think of new ways to change your self, just ‘cause.
  You think that God knows these men with hard times?
It’s not as easy as it looks because,
  When I do stop the man who spends the dimes.

But I don’t understand this tough guy talk. 
It only seems to make it worse, to walk. 

Chef's House

Matthew Antonelli

November 8, 2008

Carver’s Chef’s House

New Ending

 

I had been waiting for this time, but was never sure when it was coming.  Chef got out of his car and walked up the stone path, like a soldier, delivering bad news.  I ran from my seat in the window to greet Chef before Wes could.  I ushered him in and offered him a cool lemonade.  Wes made his way in, after a few minutes, and sat adjacent to Chef.  Chef clenched his old hat like a wet drag he couldn’t get dry. 
            What’s the matter Chef, Wes asked as I came back to join them, did someone die?

            I’m going to need you to leave my house Wes, Chef said without enjoyment. 

            I could see in his eyes that tears were not the only thing Chef was holding back.  Wes looked confused like Chef hadn’t spoke clear English.

            Did we offend you Chef?  He asked, did we do something wrong?

            Chef could only answer with a headshake and the faint whisper of the name Linda.  Wes and I both knew Linda was Chef’s portly daughter who was fondly referred to as Fat Linda.  I couldn’t imagine why Linda had any say in our living arrangement.
            Chef slowly pulled out a picture from his pocket.  The large women stared back almost sarcastically.  You see, Chef said, Linda has not only lost her family and her money, but she has lost her mind.  I need to let Linda move in here, she’s my blood.
            Wes and I exchanged glances and I bowed my head and retreated to the kitchen.  My hands were shaking and my brow was moist with sweat.  I cracked open a can of Pepsi and let the fizzy syrup hiccup into my nose.  I knew Wes would try to appeal to Chef’s kindness and work out some sort of arrangement, but I needed to work on Plan B.  I began rustling through the hall closet at the bottom of the stairs.  I knew it was it there.
            Chef!  This can’t be the end, where are we to go, Wes pleaded in the living room.  This is what we know as our home, Edna and me have never been happier.
            Wes, Chef said with convincing conviction, I love you and Edna, but you need to be out by the end of the month.  If you can make it work here, it’ll work in the city.  Now, regretfully I really must be going.
            Wait, I yelled, as I threw some crackers on a plate with a hunk of cheese.  I decided it was my turn for negotiations, call it my womanly charm.  I carried the platter out and sat it down in front of Chef, with a smile. 

            Edna, this looks lovely but I really don’t…
            Please Chef, just stay for a minute, I have something to show you.
            And with a whisper to Wes I disappeared behind the fireplace.  I covered my ears and sealed my eyes, I knew it wouldn’t take long.  After feeling a thud through my socked feet, I appeared from my hiding place.  Wes was sweating and gave me a cold stare.  I grabbed their drinks and brought them to the kitchen to refresh them.  I hope he never told Fat Linda the address.