The Old Reactor by David Ohle

Author:David Ohle
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: The Old Reactor
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 2014-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Saposcat’s was crowded. They were offering a Coward’s Day breakfast special of mud fish and kerd. Udo sat on one side of a booth, Salmonella and Moldenke on the other. Most of the diners wore yellow Coward’s Day regalia.

The scrape of leg flesh signaled the approach of the waitress. “Morning. You all here for Cowards’ Day?”

“No, we’re not,” Moldenke said. “We’re headed for the west side.”

“You ought to stay. It’s something to see, I’ll tell you.”

“We’re in a hurry.”

“Okay, what’ll it be?”

Salmonella said, “Give me the special, with green soda.”

“Sorry, girl, if you’re not here for Coward’s Days, you can’t have the special. You can get something else if you want.”

“That’s pretty stupid. Give me the kerd then.”

“We’re out of kerd.”

“Okay, the mud fish and green soda. This is all pretty stupid.”

“Mud fish and soda. That we got. You, sir?”

Udo wanted only a cup of tea and a bowl of meal.

Moldenke ordered the same, telling the waitress, “I don’t digest things very well. Angry bowel.”

“Well, sir. There’s a privy out back in case.”

The waitress returned to the kitchen.

It seemed that the act of mentioning his bowel triggered a strong contraction in Moldenke’s gut. “I’m going out back.” He slid from the booth and headed for the door. A few strides in that direction and he stepped into a hole in the floor, scraping his shin on the splintered wood. Salmonella helped him out of the hole.

“You okay?”

Some of the Coward’s Days enthusiasts laughed.

The waitress came to help. “Sorry, it’s a rotten spot that fell through.”

The fry cook rushed out of the kitchen wearing a homemade cloth veil. “What’s going on here? Is there trouble?”

Moldenke was almost in tears. “Why don’t you put up a sign?”

The fry cook raised his fist and took an angry step forward, but the waitress blocked his way. She massaged his shoulder and neck to calm him then said to Moldenke, “We’re sorry. It would be nice to have a sign. That spot’s been fixed but it just rots again.”

The fry cook, becalmed now, said, “You’re lucky, fella. When we opened this morning, some old jelly broke her leg in that hole. I heard it snap like a twig.”

The crowd twittered and giggled.

Moldenke raised his trouser leg to examine the cut on his ankle. It was more of a gouge than a clean cut, and the bleeding was slight. He continued on to the privy out back and discovered three privies instead: one for males, one for females, and one for jellyheads. He went first into the privy for males, found the commode ringed with drying feces, then tried the female privy. When he opened the door, there sat the waitress, squinting to read the Treatise in dim light. She wasn’t startled or offended and said, “Angry bladder.”

“Please excuse me. I didn’t know anyone was in here. You were just inside a moment ago.”

“Don’t worry, it happens all the time. That’s my sister. We look alike. Not twins, but we look alike.”

“Oh.”

“I work in the kitchen if I’m not out here taking care of business.

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