The Cookout

Bright rays of sunlight filtered into a dim, rusty-red as it passed through the windows of the large, Colonial-style house by the corner of the street. The walls had been haphazardly painted an artificial, plastic sort of yellow, and the lawn had been mowed excessively, with patches of dirt peeking out from the grass. All in all, it seemed to be just an ordinary house. It was only when looking closer that one would find something amiss. There were wilted, rotting, long dead flowers attracting flies, and the trees lining the lawn were spotted and blackened, with branches hanging precariously and in desperate need of pruning. Creeper vines climbed and choked portions of the wall and formed a leafy layer over the roof so that not even a single shingle was seen.

Brian awoke abruptly, flinging his sheets to the side. He had the queerest feeling that he had been late for something important, and checked his watch. It was 1:00 P.M. Brian groaned. He’d overslept and missed the work call he was supposed to take.

He blankly stared at a spot of aging light blue spot on the wall for a few moments. Brian made a mental note to repaint and dust the inside of the house as soon as possible, and trudged to the kitchen to make breakfast. There was a huge stack of dirty plates in the sink, and the remnants of yesterday’s leftover meal were still sitting on the dining table. Grumbling to himself, he poured some oatmeal onto his plate and sat down. 

The oatmeal was gritty and bland, and yet Brian found himself enjoying the monotony and the lack of spice and taste. He wondered what he was going to do until it was time to go to bed. Maybe there might be something good on the television...

An incessant clanging and shouting interrupted his train of thought.

“What is that noise?’’ He groaned again as he glanced outside.

Brian stood and tiptoed to peer out the window blinds.

Before he could look outside,  a series of loud rapid knocks thundered on Brian’s polished maple door.. It swung open to reveal a scrawny young boy with a frayed baseball cap and a rather stern looking, regal sort of woman with piercing, steely eyes.

“Hi! I’m Charlie, and we’re gonna be your neighbors!” the boy piped up cheerfully, and thrust a pecan pie in a perplexed Bruce’s hands. 

The woman smiled.

“Hello, how are you? I just wanted to-”

“Tired and sleepy,” Brian blurted out.

He was never at his best in the morning, and besides he hadn’t even finished his breakfast. 

Brian was in the middle of telling them he wanted to go back to his meal when the woman cut him off.

“But it’s past noon! I had brunch at eight! 

Bruce never woke up earlier than nine thirty.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you were going to be busy today at-”

Brian saw his chance to retreat from the conversation and latched onto it like a drowning man to a lifeline.

“Ah, yes! My schedule is all packed up for today, sorry about that! I’ve actually got lots to do and I even missed my work call, maybe some other time, preferably next week would be better.”

When it came to next week Brian would simply postpone it again.

“Oh! What do you do? It must be hard having such a busy schedule on a weekend.”

“It’s a weekend?”

The woman laughed again, her steely eyes flashing with mirth.

“Yes, it’s a Saturday! Well then, that must mean you’re free today, right?”

She continued on before Brian could say anything.

“We’re going to have a small party-well, a cookout actually, in our place at six to meet our neighbors!

Mostly everyone said yes, and you’re our last stop!

She looked at him with a gaze that cut through him and turned his spine into jelly. Brian stammered.

"Oh, er.. I'm afraid I think I might have something booked later on.."

"Really?"

"Ah yes, I was going to go..."

Brian hesitated.

"I was going to go meet my friend... Steve at... at the park," he finished lamely.

The woman was not thrown off a beat. 

"Well that's wonderful then! Steve said he was going to come to the party too! That works out perfectly, you can catch up then!"

Brian was running out of excuses. He just wanted to go back to his oatmeal that was probably stone cold by now, and maybe watch a couple documentaries on his television. Maybe he'd spice things up with a horror movie, one he'd already watched, of course. He could never stand the countless jump scares or the unneeded gore. He sighed.

"Uh..... alright then, I guess."

The woman laughed again. It seemed she never tired of it. 

"Wonderful! We'll see you there!"

She stopped suddenly, slapping her forehead.

"I forgot to give you my name- I'm Lauren."

"Brian."

She smiled, and her eyes took a warmer light.

"See you, Brian!"

"See you..."

The door closed. Brian peered through the eyehole. Lauren was wrangling her son and dragging him along to the house right next door to his. Apparently they were going to be next door neighbors. Surprisingly, the thought didn't seem too terrible.

Brian sighed, walking back to his table where his oatmeal waited forlornly.

He had only just put a spoonful to his mouth when he realized that he couldn't really stand the taste anymore. It just didn't seem as comforting or as smooth and relaxing as before. It was too... bland. He put down the spoon and threw out the oatmeal. 

The pecan pie that Charlie had given him caught his eye. Brian had never tried pecan before, and didn't think much of it. Maybe it was time to try something new.

Carefully, he lifted the covering, causing wafts of surprisingly pleasant smells to draft around his kitchen. He picked up his spoon and took a cautious bite. His mouth burst with flavour, a new and exciting experience filled with spices and change and pleasant sweetness. 

Brian smiled as he realized that he was looking forward to the cookout.