The Dinner Party

The slop cascaded into the bowl like diarrhea. The squelch as the wet ingredients landed was disgusting on the ears. The lights around the house flickered every so often as the wind beat itself menacingly against the wooden house. Each of them took a seat at the table, seldom looking at each other. The room was quiet; the slightest noise could seem as loud as a boulder crashing through a window. They each chewed the stuff quietly, slowly enough that it seemed as if their jaws didn't move at all.

        There were five of them all around the table. The guests were all young, no older than thirty-five. But each of their countenances betrayed premature aging and wisdom beyond their years only earned by trauma and tragedy. Three boys and two girls, all stony-faced and unfazed. Their clothes all bore dirt marks and tears. Some of them had deep red bloodstains on them. They all didn't seem to mind, though. Hell, it seemed like they hadn't cared about anything in a long while. One of them spoke up.

        "Cold out there." He said, dully.

        The rest nodded wearily, without much thought into it.

        "I hear it's going to be cold for a while," he continued. "We might be stuck in here for a bit."

        "Rather be in here than out here." Another quipped.

        "Agreed."

        They continued back to their eating. The girl on the far right corner of the table moved her hand across the table, her bony hands gripping a ladle with vigor. Her almond-shaped eyes blinked only once as she brought the slop into her bowl. It was as if she had trained her eyes to go without the need to refresh themselves. Another, a man with African features, patted his lips with a kerchief tucked unceremoniously into his shirt collar, a makeshift bib. A slight burp passed between his lips as he excused himself to the restroom. The group, like gelatin, conformed itself to occupy the space in his absence.

        The lights began to flicker more rapidly. They flashed their great light like they were part of a camera. Some of the group looked up to investigate, but their stoicism was not phased at all. They continued their meal, sometimes making the occasional cough or burp.

        "How do you like it?" said the almond-eyed woman.

        They each looked up at her.

        "It's lovely."

        "Refreshing."

        "Dazzling."

        The words of encouragement brought a smile to her lips. Her smile, though, was dead. There was no emotion, no absolute joy, behind her grin. It was the smile of the damned.

        "I have something else prepared for dessert if you would like later."

        "My dear," answered the African man. "That would be fantastic."

        The smile widened, but her spirits did not rise with it. She got up to the table to fetch the thing she made. As she left, like clockwork, they absorbed up the empty space she made and shuffled around. The conversation began again.

        "It's too bad Liza couldn't make it tonight," a blonde-haired woman commented. "She would've been the life of the party."

        "We're fine," replied the African man. "This has been a good party on its own."

        "Agreed."

        The blonde-haired lady grabbed the ladle, her stubby hands, which were caked with blood, and made herself another serving. Before she could take another bite, she felt something strange in between her teeth. She took her pinky finger and began to pick, working inside her own mouth like she was performing oral surgery. When she got the blasted thing from between her teeth, she gazed upon it with slight interest; it was white in color with a bit of red inside. She shrugged her shoulders and tossed to the floor; nothing too serious to make a deal of. As she did so, the almond-eyed woman returned with the other man in tow. A silver platter was topped with an aluminum cover in the woman's hands; in the man's hands, a large butcher's cleaver. As she moved slowly toward the table, the rest of the guests looked upon her. For the first time in the evening, they all dared to smile. They smiled upon her with reverence and love as younger clan members do upon the matriarch.

        She set the plate on the table and took her seat next to the blonde-haired woman. With the air of regality, the man with the cleaver set the thing down and straightened his back.

        "Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "Thank you so much for being here tonight. I'm so glad that, despite many foibles and tribulations, we have been able to come together for tonight."

        The group began to clap, slowly and mournfully.

        "It pleases my heart to know that you have taken it upon yourselves to come here, for you had the choice not to do it. Since the weather outside has proven that it would've been much wiser to stay at home, I commend you for your bravery and fortitude."

        He returned the applause with his own with the same drudgery attitude.

        "I never had a family of my own. My mother passed away in childbirth, and my father abandoned me at two years old. I never had cousins, siblings, aunts or uncles, grandparents, or great-grandparents. I never had the typical childhood memory of gathering at the table for dinner every night. So seeing you all here today, gathered around this little table, makes me so happy. I thank you all for this new memory."

        He stifled a tear from his eye.

        "Unfortunately, not all of us could not be with us at the table tonight. That is alright. For they have given us something much more than that. They have brought this group together in more ways than one and brought us closer in a way they never thought. They have done such a great service that I must give them the proper attention with a toast."

        The almond-eyed woman, from under her seat, brought out a black and heavy wine glass. The man gave each of the guests a drink which she filled promptly. Once all of their glasses were filled, the man raised his in the air, and the rest followed suit.

        "To our friend Liza," he announced. "For it was her that brought us all together, and it was her that provided this lovely meal tonight. Tchin-tchin."

        They each sipped their glasses. And as they did, the almond-eyed woman removed the cover to the silver platter. On it lay a sizeable bulbous thing; small radishes where the eyes were, the hair chopped and replaced with sprout dyed a jet black. A large amount of stuffing in the mouth and the ears and nose cut off at the bone. With one final sip of his glass, the man took the butcher's cleaver from the table and began work on serving his guests their dessert.