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Sunday, March 9, 2014

All the Nuts aren’t with The Pancake’s Part 12

The vomit hits me in my chest with such a force, that I take a step back. My soul actually tries to escape by pushing backwards, out of my body.

The vomit spreads from its point of impact and flies into my hair, my eyes, my nose, and runs down the front of my pants.

My body locks and I can’t move. As if in a movie, suddenly everything goes into slow motion. I can no longer hear the familiar muzak playing from the speaker’s overhead or smell the familiar clam chowder overcooking on the steam table. 

The sound I hear is all muffled, sort of like I am underwater and my sense of smell has become overpowered. I look at the faces of the people at the table who are watching this happen. Again it is in slow motion. Their faces contort from a look of shock, to a look of horror and disgust. I can see a man reach for a handful of napkins and extend his hand towards me.

“They’re all going to laugh at you Carrie White.” Says a little voice in my head

Frozen and all I can hear is a drip, drip, drip sound as the vomit drops off my face and hits the tip of my shoe. Frozen and I feel as if I am standing like this for hours. Time no longer exists. Sound no longer exists. All I can hear, smell and feel is the vomit dripping off of me.

I can see the table, and the woman who did this. Her head is back on the table and they are saying something to me. I believe, It’s an apology, but I don’t move.

Once my brain processes what happened, it decides to step in and make something happen to me. I slow turn around and face the dining room floor. Everyone is looking at me. Everyone is looking at me.

“They’re all going to laugh at you Carrie White,” says the little voice in my head again.

I can see Michelle, Lois and Anne frozen by the register, looking at me. Lois and Anne have come out on the floor to start work. Michelle is leaving and has changed out of her uniform. I can see the look of horror on their faces.

My head slowly moves from side to side as it pans every table, every customer. My hands are still frozen in mid air, it looks like I tried to block the vomit as it hit me or I was in the middle of a “hold up” when it happened.

Slowly, I pivot away from the girls on my heel and head towards the kitchen door. Every eye is on me as I walk. The busboys standing in front of the kitchen part as I come near them. They too have a look of horror on their faces.

I step into the kitchen. The polyester shirt of my uniform is stuck to my skin. Without a word, I unbutton my shirt and my vest. My nametag is no longer visible but I can see the Denny’s logo peeking out at the top.

I slide the t-shirt and the vest off my arms and drop it into the garbage can under the time clock. I pivot again and head back out of the kitchen, this time from the door closest to the register.

“It didn’t happen,” my brain reassures me. I am now wearing a vomit stained white t-shirt, vomit covered uniform pants and vomit covered shoes. Without a word to anyone I walk past the register, head out the front door of the restaurant and climb into the front seat of my car. I start the engine. Without a second thought I pull out of the parking lot and onto the main road.


I am heading home.


to be continued…

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life/Down the Rabbit Hole". It cannot be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

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