Patty's Food Addiction

“Don’t be scared, Eddie. It won’t bite…OR WILL IT!” The camera zooms in on the pink crab claw in Pat’s hand as his voice dips down into mock demonic bellowing. It zooms out to show animated flames leaping out around Pat’s head like a halo, and the playback speed slows down to .5. In a flash, normalcy resumes and Pat continues on. 
“No, no, it’s already deliciously cooked. Don’t worry, Eds. Is it me, or was the camera shaking a little there?” Pat’s eyes glint with good humor and his warm, endearing smile broadens as he brings the segment home. Upbeat pop music plays over his final words. “The Santa Monica Crab House is devilishly good, and you, my fiends-I mean, friends, have got to check this place out. Peep the description for more info and don’t forget to like and subscribe to Patty’s Food Addiction to follow our food tour across the states! See ya next time, weirdos!” 
The video ends and Pat tosses the cell phone onto the motel’s floral bedspread. 
“Not bad, right?” Ed says sleepily. He’s already made himself comfortable on his twin bed, the one tucked in the corner. Pat, of course, has taken the window bed.
“Not bad?” Pat raises his eyebrows and waits for a response. 
Eddie, finally noticing the expectant pause, glances over at his friend. “Yeah. You didn’t like it?”
“It’s missing the wink sound, Ed.”
“What the hell is a wink sound?” Eddie says, already mourning the sleep he will lose to whatever argument is on the horizon. 
“I told you right after the shoot that you should add a wink sound when I wink at the camera. It’s funny. People like it.”
“Right, okay. I’ll send a memo out to my team of one to get on that for next time.” 
“Edward,” Pat says in the pandering tone of a parent waiting out a child’s temper-tantrum. 
“I added flames shooting out of your head, Pat, sorry I missed a wink sound. How the hell is a wink even supposed to sound?” 
“Gee, Eddie, I didn’t know you hated your job so much.” Pat crosses one leg over the other and lets his eyes linger on Ed’s, daring him to continue on, daring him not to acquiesce. 
“Not what I meant.”
“Because if I remember, you were the one practically on the street when I offered you this position.”
“Great, yeah, just keep holding it over my head, Pat.” Defeated, Eddie lays back down on the bed and turns over to face the wall. 
“You’re welcome,” Pat says cheerily. He props himself up in his bed and turns the television on. “Hey, Eddie?”
“What?” Ed grumbles. 
“A wink sound should be like a little bell ringing.”
“What?” Eddie half turns and his profile is washed away with the silver light of the television.
“Just for next time. There should be a little bell ringing any time I wink at the camera. K?” 
Ed turns away, too angry to speak.
Looking over at Ed’s back, Pat points the remote at the T.V. screen and turns the sound up to the maximum volume. 
“Sleep well,” Pat shouts. Ed’s only reaction is to pull the pillow over his head.
Ed wakes up sweating, and when he pulls the pillow off his face, the harsh sunlight from the open doorway pours in and bakes the room with dry desert heat. He takes off his glasses.
“Pat?” he rubs his eyes and puts his glasses back on to look around the room. The bathroom door is closed and he can hear running water. He looks back towards the open front door. "Jesus, Patty, you left the door open!"
The beam of sunlight shifts, and a shadow, small and quick, flutters just outside the door. Ed walks towards it. A gray rat peeks its head around the door and looks at him with murky, black eyes. Ed screams and jumps up on the bed. 
The bathroom door opens and Pat appears, his lower half wrapped up in a towel. “We’ve only got 15,000 views on the Santa Monica video. I’m telling you, we need to find our niche. There’s too much food content out there right now. Why are you on the bed?” 
“Rat! Doorway!” Ed is pointing but looking away. Pat looks at the door and walks closer.
“Huh.”
“Huh, what?" Eddie says.
“It’s dead.”
“What?”
“Ha-it's dead. Look at this.” Pat throws the door all the way open before Ed can object. The rat is lying on its side, flanked by a skinny orange cat. The cat is standing over the rat, chewing on its exposed intestines.
“Close it! Close the door!” Ed shrieks. 
“Beat it!” Pat deposits a quick kick to the cat’s side and it hisses at him and then runs away, abandoning the mangled rat at their door. 
The drive out of California and into Nevada is hot and uneventful. Pat talks and Ed pretends to listen. Red swirls of dusty cliffs rise up around the road as they drive through the desert. When the land settles into miles of flat plains, the world is divided in two; periwinkle blue and apricot, meeting on the horizon in a line as sharp as a knife.
The camera lingers on a cherry tomato perched on a bed of iceberg lettuce and then pans up at a steady pace to reveal each additional layer of a colossal stack of food. The stack ascends in the following order: a bloody New York strip, two Belgian waffles drenched in syrup and butter, a fried chicken thigh and drumstick, jiggling shrimp Lo Mein, a dollop of beef and broccoli, cold glass noodles with kimchi, shrimp cocktail, and three pieces of crispy bacon fanned out on top. As the camera reaches the top of the edible mountain, Pat’s eyes, wide and crossed in disbelief, peek over the top of the bacon. The camera pulls out to a wide shot and Pat can be seen holding the plate with two hands. He’s walking away from a pristine buffet that snakes around a room as wide and tall as a ballroom. Tourists in cargo shorts and white sneakers mill about, holding their own mounds, though theirs are not quite as outrageous as Pat’s. 
“Whoa whoaaaaa!” Pat pretends to lose balance and tips the plate to one side, but then rights himself at the last moment, laughing. “What do you think Eds, did I get enough?” Animated sparkles glint around the top of the food, and then an inserted belching sound rings out. Pat puts the plate on a nearby table, grabs a piece of bacon, and rips off the end with his teeth. He chews enthusiastically. “Listen friends, if you’re hungover, sad, lonely, happy, celebrating - any or all of the above, then Gravy Train Buffet is the place to be in Las Vegas. The food is fresh and beyond bountiful.” 
Pat snatches another piece of bacon off the top and hands it to a passerby. The young woman looks at the piece of bacon nervously and then at the camera. She giggles and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, then takes the bacon and scurries away. “Follow us on our food tour across the states! We’ve done the big and bold, and now, we will be chasing down the lesser known establishments of this great country. I’m talking greasy spoons, roadside smoked brisket! The works! Subscribe to Patty’s Food Addiction to see it all!” 
The camera zooms in with quick jerky movements and settles on Pat’s mouth as he’s finishing his call to action. A piece of charred bacon sits on his lip and glistens as he talks. A fake sparkle shoots out of the bacon bit on his lip and a bell rings for half a second and then the video ends. 
Pat looks up from his phone and over the roof of the car at Ed. “Funny.”
“Thought you’d like it,” Ed smiles. 
The sky is a low blanket of cassis, barring a burning line of orange and pink at the border of sky and earth. The pair slide into their respective seats and head east, putting more distance between themselves and the lights of Las Vegas. 
“Let’s stop somewhere. It’s been hours,” Ed says. 
“It’s only been two and there’s been nowhere to stop anyway. I want to make it to Winona.”
“Fine. I’m sleeping then.”
“No.”
“No?” 
“The least you can do is entertain me. I’m driving and paying for the rooms and meals.”
“Jesus. Alright.”
“Great. Go on then,” Pat says.
“Ok...what’s in Winona?”
“Nothing. And where there’s nothing, there are hidden gems. I want to find the weirdest small town spot possible.” 
“I’m sure it will be a culinary delight. How did you hear about this place? I thought the next episode was Albuquerque.”
“Some girl in Vegas told me about this place. She’s from there, apparently. She said it’s complete shit and there’s nothing to do and we should avoid it at all costs.”
“And you took that as we should definitely go and eat the food there?”
“Yup,” Pat smiles to himself, staring hard at the road.
Ed looks at him and scowls. “You didn’t.”
Pat looks at Ed and grins.
“Come on, man,” Ed says, turning away, disgusted. “I suppose I’m supposed to keep this one to myself too, huh? Remind me to avoid Allison when we get back. You know I can’t lie for shit.”
Pat says nothing, and starts happily humming. 
Ed pulls his hoodie up over his head and shuts his eyes. It’s his go-to routine, and the only way he’s found to help him escape the torment of being Pat’s friend. Arguing would be futile, scolding would only make Pat more proud of himself, and so he simply shuts down, leaving his friend with the only punishment that would really wound him: being alone with himself. The only thing Pat can’t handle is loneliness, a world without a stage and spectators. 
The car hits a bump and it jostles Ed awake. He sits up, startled, surprised that he actually fell asleep. He looks through the windshield and sees a white square floating towards them out of the midnight dark. As it gets closer, Ed can make out words on a white sign: Fort Apache Reservation. Ed watches it pass by and disappear again into the darkness. 
“Here we are,” Pat says, turning left down a dirt path. 
The sound of his voice startles Ed out of his thoughts and he looks over at him. “Where?” Ed says. A small wooden arrow is stuck in the ground at the right of the dirt path and it reads: Sally’s Diner. Gray, fat shrubs that are probably green in daylight sit on either side of the road as they drive slowly towards a mellow orange glow in the distance. 
“How do you know they’ll be open?” Ed says, sitting up in his seat and squinting ahead.
“She said they’re always open.”
“Who…oh, right.” The memory of Pat’s infidelity creeps back in and makes him feel slightly ill. 
They pull up to a double wide trailer with a truck parked on the right side of it. It’s an old pick up from the 50’s, sitting on cinder blocks. It’s rusted almost beyond recognition. Amorphous lumps of brown material can be seen in the back seat where Pat’s headlights shine in. 
Ed jumps in his seat as two shining, golden eyes appear from out of the truck’s window and glare at them. Pat turns off the headlights and the animal, still visible in the dim light from the trailer’s windows, reveals itself to be a cat. It jumps out of the truck window and disappears behind the side of the trailer. 
Ed looks at Pat with deep incredulity. “We aren’t really eating here, are we?” 
“You’re damn right we are,” Pat says. He turns the car off and walks towards the door. When Pat gets within two feet of the place, a figure appears behind the screen door and then slams it open. Pat stops suddenly, his feet sliding to a halt in the gravel. 
“Hi there. Are you open?” Pat says.
A bare bulb to the left of the doorway turns on and, finally, the man can be seen clearly. He’s old, but looks strong, with broad shoulders and a thick midsection with muscled arms still untouched by age. His hair is thick, but shockingly white, and pulled back into a low ponytail. It stands out against his tanned skin. 
Ed gets out of the car and stands behind the shelter of his car door. He looks at the man and wonders if he’s part Apache. 
The man looks Pat up and down and then says, “Closed.” The blinds in the window to the left of the man’s head flick open and a striking woman with long, dark hair looks out. She looks much younger than the man; possibly, she is his daughter. 
“Come on, Pat, let’s go,” Ed says uneasily, already putting one foot back into the car. He sees the woman’s eyes flick over to him. They glow like the cat’s eyes. She taps on the glass twice with her knuckle and the old man looks back at her. This time, Ed goes ahead and gets himself back in the car without hesitation. 
Pat, meanwhile has been gazing at the young woman with his signature Patty smile. The man looks back at Pat, noting his blatant flirtation. The man smiles, revealing a mouth full of gums. Pat smiles back, proud of himself for disarming the man so easily. “We’ve been traveling all night and are awfully hungry. This place just looks so cool, we had to stop by. I actually have a popular YouTube channel-
“Yes. Hungry. Let’s see what we can whip up for you boys.” The man opens the screen door and goes back inside. The door snaps shut behind him. 
“Come on, Eddie!” Pat shouts.
“No fucking way,” Ed says to himself. He folds his arms over his chest and sulks. He looks at the window and the woman is still there looking at him. He blinks and waves tentatively. She closes the blinds. 
Pat’s face appears in Ed’s window and his expression is a warning. Do not fuck this up. He opens Ed’s door and pulls him out by the front of his hoodie with one hand. 
“Let’s go. Get the equipment.”
“Pat…” Pat is already opening the trunk and hauling things out and onto the ground. 
“This is crazy. You know we’re going to get murdered, right?” 
“Eddie, we are doing this and it’s going to be huge. People love to be scared and this, my friend, is scary.”
“Ok, just stop for a second. Listen!” Ed grabs Pat’s arm and turns him so they are facing each other. “How do you know they are even going to let us film? We have to get them to sign the release form.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to the woman. She seems friendly enough.” Pat picks up a heavy black box of sound equipment and pushes it against Ed’s chest. “Let’s go.”
The inside of the trailer is cut into two parts. The outer door leads into a room with a small wooden bar set against the wall. Five small, mismatched tables are scattered around the room. A folding screen separates the kitchen, which consists of a small stove, refrigerator, and a counter. 
Ed puts the equipment down and Pat walks around talking to no one. “Great place, wow, very rustic, homey, you know.” 
“Haven’t started filming yet, Pat,” Ed says as he starts unpacking the camera. 
“You can’t film in here.” The woman from the window emerges from a door leading to the other half of the trailer, probably their living quarters.
“Hey, there she is!” Pat says.
“You can’t film in here,” she says again. 
“Uh-yeah, sorry. We won’t that’s okay,” Ed says, and starts packing up swiftly. 
Pat steps between them. “I’m Pat. Not sure if you get the internet around here, but I have a famous YouTube channel called Patty’s Food Addiction. Basically, we are touring around the country looking for good food and good people. Unique places too, like your fine establishment. We would love to put a spotlight on your restaurant and feature you in our next segment. It would get you a ton more business.” Pat smiles from ear to ear, already celebrating his successful manipulation. 
The woman stares at Pat blankly and then disappears behind the kitchen’s folding screen. The old man emerges from behind the bar and hands them each a warm bottle of beer. Only tattered white remnants remain of their labels. He smiles his fleshy smile and walks through the door into the other section of the trailer. 
Pat nods towards Ed indicating that he should try the beer first. Ed sniffs at the top of the bottle and then takes a swig. It tastes skunky and warm, but drinkable. 
The woman comes out holding a chipped white plate topped with a mess of something gray and brown that gyrates with each step. She puts it down on the nearest table with a thunk and then drops two forks next to it. She looks at them. “Eat this and then you can go.” She walks behind the bar and begins drying glasses and stacking them neatly on the dusty wooden bar before her.
Pat and Ed edge over to the table and peer down at the substance. The lump covers almost the whole plate. Parts of it are bumpy and rainbow-shiny, like birefringence on a piece of meat. Other parts are as smooth and gray as shark skin. It’s impossible to tell if it’s meat, vegetable or some kind of oatmeal mush. 
“What the hell is this?” Pat says loudly.
“You don’t want it? Then go,” she says angrily and approaches the table. 
“Wait!” Ed interrupts. “This is perfectly fine. Thank you so much.”
“Really, Eddie? You expect me to eat this? We aren’t even filming. What’s the fucking point?” Pat says. 
Ed pulls Pat away from the table and whispers, “The point is that we woke these people up in the middle of the night and they are being hospitable. You can’t just insult their food.”
"Then you eat it.” Pat is suddenly grinning. “Yeah, this could be our alternate segment theme. Eddie’s Inedible Food Tour or something like that." 
Ed looks over Pat’s shoulder and sees the woman glaring at them. “I’ll do it, but we’re not filming.” Pat thinks for a second and then agrees. 
“Sorry about that. Pat has a sensitive stomach but I’d be happy to eat the meal. Thank you again,” Ed says, seating himself down in front of the food. Pat sits on the other side of the table and smiles at Ed expectantly. 
“Well, here we go,” Ed says. He picks up his fork, but then pauses and guzzles down half of his warm beer. The tips of his fork sinks in and he finds no resistance as he scoops up a chunk of the flabby substance. His stomach clenches, but he places the morsel into his mouth anyway. It’s as soft as bread pudding and he chews quickly, tasting salt, vinegar and an earthy flavor he can’t place. He swallows and closes his eyes, willing his gag reflex to relax.
Bright white stars dance around the inside of his eyelids and he fears for a moment that he’s going to pass out. He gags for a moment and then regains his composure. 
Ed opens his eyes but he can’t see anything. The world is still steeped in blackness. He blinks and looks around, but he’s blind to the world. Then, a pinprick of white appears. He squints and concentrates on it as it grows in size. A pattern of thuds can be heard as well, and they also increase in volume as Ed stands there listening to the void. 
“Pat?” he tries, but he has no voice. The white is now thumb-sized and the thudding is growing louder. The white shape grows closer until he can see that it’s the body of a man riding a horse. The horse’s hooves are thundering towards him and the man’s body is brown and painted with black streaks slashed up and down his chest. His head and face are completely wrapped up in a white cloth, but antlers emerge through the top of it, sharp and broad as a stag’s.
When Ed tries to scream he wakes up in the car. He’s panting and drool is drying on his chin. He looks around and realizes he’s in the passenger seat of Pat’s car. Pat’s driving and he looks over at Ed. “Are you alright?”
“What happened?” Ed croaks. His mouth feels like sandpaper and he’s incredibly thirsty and, surprisingly, hungry. 
“I don’t know man, you ate that nasty shit and then we walked back to the car and you passed out.”
“I did? I don’t remember. Where are we?”
“Holbrook. Gonna find a motel. Take today off so we can sleep a little,” Pat says. 
Pat is being suspiciously easy-going. “What about the next segment?” Ed says.
“Already got it,” Pat says with a sheepish smile. 
“What do you mean?”
“The trailer-trash diner.”
“We didn’t film that,” Ed says, feeling even more disoriented.
“I did. With my phone,” Pat says and tosses the phone over to Ed.
Ed goes to Pat’s videos and opens up the most recent one. He presses play. The video is shaky and shows the plate of food in front of Ed. Half of the shot is obscured by Pat’s beer bottle, which he used to prop up the phone and partially hide it from view. Ed watches himself gag and then close his eyes for thirty seconds. Then, his eyes open again and he takes another bite, and then another. By the end of the video, Ed has devoured the entirety of the meal. The rest of the video shows Pat thanking the woman and the walk back to the car. 
Ed has suddenly developed a thumping headache. “We gotta stop somewhere man. I need some water.”
“We’re almost there.”
“No, stop here. Stop here!” Ed says hysterically as they near a gas station with a little shop attached. 
“Jesus, alright.” Pat pulls over and waits in the car for Ed to go in. 
Ed comes back with a plastic bag filled with snacks and drinks. He plops down in the seat, shuts the car door and immediately grabs a large bottle of water out of the bag, twists off the cap and starts gulping it down. 
“Nothing for me?” Pat puts his hand in the plastic back and starts rooting around in it. Ed slaps his hand away.
“Alright then. I don’t want any of that crap, anyway. Bad for my physique.” Pat pulls out of the gas station and starts driving towards the center of town. Ed rips open candy bars and chips and chomps down, trying to fill a cramping emptiness in his stomach that he’s hoping isn’t going to end up being food poisoning. He finishes off the last Snickers bar as they pull into a parking space at the motel. 
While Pat sleeps, Ed lies on his bed and watches TV. His stomach is grumbling and looks bloated under his thin T-shirt. Eventually, he too falls asleep.
Pat wakes up to a dark room. He slept longer than intended. His hand fishes around in the blankets for the remote. Whatever is playing on the TV is loud. He can’t find it, so he sits up, squinting. It’s dark in the motel room and the TV is off. A chill raises the hair on his arms and legs as he realizes that the sounds are coming from inside the room. 
“Eddie?”
Slurp. Smack. Crunch. Mmmmmmm. 
Pat lunges for the bedside lamp and turns it on. When the light hits the room, he can see that Ed’s bed is empty. He looks around wildly, trying to find the source of the moaning and slobbering. Then he sees two pale, white feet sticking out from the space between Ed’s bed and the wall. Pat stands up and walks over and sees Ed sitting on the ground, staring straight ahead, shoveling a piece of pepperoni pizza into his mouth with both hands. Sauce and grease cover his face and his crooked glasses. 
“Ed, what the hell are you doing?” Pat says with an uneasy laugh. 
Ed stops chewing and looks up at Pat, his mouth filled with half-masticated food. “I’m eating.”
“Yeah I can see that man, but it’s…” Pat looks at the clock on the bedside table. “…3am.”
“Well, I couldn’t sleep and I took a walk and someone had left it outside their door so I just took it.”
“So you’re eating garbage. Great. Just, go clean yourself up and go to bed. We gotta leave in like three hours.”
Ed lays down where he is and falls asleep with the piece of pizza still clutched in his hand. Pat looks at him, disgusted, and then goes back to bed. 
The next day they drive the three hours to Albuquerque and make it to the 50’s themed, 66 Diner. The place is pristine, shiny and bright like a cartoon. 
“Hey Daddy-O, check out this double decker cheese burger, chili fries and milkshake combo they’ve got going on over here at 66 Diner in Albuquerque, New Mexico.” The camera zooms in on the melted orange cheese that’s sliding down the side of the beef patties. It lingers there for the entirety of Pat’s dialogue. 
“What the fuck is this, Ed! You didn’t get any footage of me talking.”
Ed is unresponsive and eating his third hot dog from the diner as they sit in the car reviewing the footage.
Pat grabs the hot dog out of Ed’s hand and throws it out the window. Ed turns toward him so quickly that Pat flinches back and hits his head on the roof of the car. 
“Hey!” Pat says, but Ed grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him forward. Their noses are touching and Ed pulls his lips back and bares his teeth. He makes a sound in his throat like a snarl. From Pat’s perspective, Ed’s eyes look black, and his face is impossibly long and white. Ed lets go and gets out of the car. 
Pat’s heart is thumping hard in his chest as he watches Ed walk back towards the diner. A bus boy exits the side door and tosses a trash bag into the dumpster beside the diner. Ed makes a sharp left towards it and Pat can only stare in disbelief as Ed hauls himself over the side of the dumpster with ease and starts tearing through the garbage, pulling out clumps of leftover food; half-eaten buns, mounds of wilted lettuce and tomato, meat and cheese and coffee grounds. They blend together in clumps as he pulls them out and stuffs them into his mouth. 
Without thinking, Pat turns the car on and backs out of the parking space. He slams on the breaks before nearly hitting a couple exiting the dine and when he turns back towards the windshield to accelerate forward, Ed is standing there in front of the car, his mouth smudged with filth. He stares at Pat and then slowly walks around to the passenger side and gets in. He turns his head and looks at Pat. 
“Were you going to leave without me?”
“I-Eddie, why the hell did you do that?”
“I was hungry.”
After a few moments of shocked silence, Pat drives the car out of the parking lot and on to their next destination. The two do not speak during the hour drive to Santa Fe. 
That night, Pat has trouble falling asleep in their hotel room, despite it being slightly more upscale than their previous lodging. Ed is sleeping soundly, but Pat feels troubled. When he finally falls asleep just past midnight, he is haunted by strange nightmares, filled with torch light and behemoth beasts moving through ancient landscapes. 
Pat wakes up, gasping and sweating. He’s never had a nightmare before. He’s in so much pain, he fears he must have thrashed around and injured himself. He tries to reach his arm over to turn on the lamp but his arm is stuck. He pulls again and realizes his wrist is tied to the bed. His other wrist is as well, and so are his legs. A sharp, agonizing pain lights up in his right leg. He screams and pulls against his restraints.
“Help! Eddie! Somebody!” But no one answers. A car drives by, the headlights lighting up the room through the slats of the blinds allowing him to see the end of the bed. Huddled there is Ed, chewing on his leg. His teeth sink in deep and he rips off a chunk of calf meat. Pat screams again. Ed keeps on eating. 
A glint of light catches Pat’s eye from the bedside table. He looks and sees his cell phone. It’s recording live on YouTube. The gruesome nightmare he’s in is reflected back at him and thousands of comments are spilling in as people watch him being devoured. 
Golden eyes flash in through the hotel window. “Somebody, please! Help me!” Pat is pleading with the voyeur in the window, with his subscribers, with anyone who will take pity on him. The eyes in the window shiver with movement and suddenly he can see the outline of a cat, stealthy and silent, watching them. 
Category:Dgrady237
Category:Wheel of Misfortune 2022
Category:Food
Category:Weird