MeanWhile… Episode 1 (Edited)

In The Golden Carousel, high atop the pretentious Beacon tower, Jeff and Erma Marlstein dine in extravagant splendor. The Golden Carousel, always in it’s Sunday best, impresses the middle class and is wasted on the million dollar regulars, who treat the golden pillars, pristine china, and 1000 dollar bottles like super sized specials added to a value meal.

“Bleedin’ ‘ell, would you look it that.”

A posh crew of beautiful people left their table and crowed by the picture windows. They carried on at an octave higher than than the string cortet and disturbed the calm, sublime ambiance.

Jeff snorted at their rowdy behavior. He could hear the Euro trash in their accent and knew they were cast into the new world with their parent’s money. They treated the Golden Carousel as a restaurant in the city, while Jim knew it as a special anniversary present. The separation in definition was the forefront of the class war.

He tried to concentrate on the bourbon and swirled the snifter to hear the ice clink against the glass. The group took up a 10 person table and crowded around the window. Each one dressed as if their very lives were cannon fodder for the poparotzi. Their table, filled with food, remained untouched.

“What a waste.” Jim said to himself but Erma took it as directed towards her.
“What dear?”
“What? oh nothing.”

Erma looked across the table and noticed Jeff’s wandering eyes. “Typical” was the word to come to mind. Jeff was always involved in the wealth of other men. His one major problem in life was his short sighted self view. Diamonds caught the eye but tricks with light faded. Erma looked past the skyline to the twilight heavens for the strength to survive this dinner, the silence, and the lip stick smear on the collar of Jeff’s work shirt. She craved ignorance and scorned her serendipitous laundry moment.

“A beautiful night.” She said.

She looked into the twilight and saw years past, when her husband was another suitor in a sea of testosterone. She smiled and remembered how he squirmed in his chair and soaked his handkerchief with clammy palms. He was a pessimist by nature. On the night of their engagement, when the campaign glass with the ring at the bottom arrived at the table and she didn’t immediately notice, he almost walked out. The story would be an endearing engagement story or end with “And I wish he would have left.” depending upon her mood.

Jeff remembered their engagement. He remember how Erma seemed to be the next step in his plan. Another trinket to acquire, a centerpiece to build his life around. Rich powerful men wanted her and he snatched her from their clutches. He had their jewel first and wanted their bank roll second. Yet, was there love? Is there love? He had uncertain answers to unfathomable questions.

Diner is served and their attentions return to the table. Tiny morsels pose in the center of a gold rimmed China. The candle light throws layers of shadows over the couple like petroleum jelly covers a lens. Reality’s rough jagged edges are smoothed into a picturesque view. The candle lit sight of an outsider was a caption for their life. The Marlstein’s life, a Rockwell drawn Time magazine cover. A white picket fence, white bright teeth, and white stuffed shirts. Jeff smoked a pipe and Erma had a sought after recipe collection. Friends, family and the rigors of their 30’s, they had materialism and presentation down to a science.

Picture windows encased the restaurant with a full view of the city but perfect moments are fleeting, and change with a blood curdling scream. The music ceased as everyone, save for the anniversary couple, turned to look towards the window.

From the rolling waves of the ocean shore emerged a 50 foot Platypus from the depths of Davie Jones’ locker. The mammal appeared fake as News coverage live from the scene often appears unreal. The population too infused by CGI images and special effects.

What starts as a odd nature show quickly turns into horror as the Platypus collides with the city’s pitfalls. Cars crash against her feet. Building adornments, fire escapes, flag poles, and gargoyles, bite and tear into her flesh. Glass shatters and slices her fur. In rabid anger, she fights back and defends herself from the alien landscape. A tower of fur covered havoc unleashes her vengeance.

The patrons of the Golden Carousel degraded into blind anarchy. Early birds had escaped as the crowd gawked at their own destruction though the picture windows. Now, the entire crowd escaped through the same stairwell. More than one body lay on the floor trampled or pushed over the rail, given an express ticket to escape.

Screams of terror echo up the stairwell to the restaurant where the anniversary couple dine in relative peace. Erma holds the end of a golden fork between her lips as she savors a tiny bit of Heaven. Jeff samples the 1995 Chteau Margaux. The world outside falls apart before their very eyes but, for better or worse, they keep their promise and struggle through another meal.

“Well Kiddies, that’s all for this issue of the Flash Fiction Series Meanwhile… Join Us next time in “Face Full Of Egg“