FRIENDLY FRED’S By: Michael A. Kechula
Saturday, February 28th, 2009“What’ll you have?” asked the guy wearing the dirty apron and Charlie nametag.
“A bowl of Friendly Fred’s Award Winning Chili,” said Harry.
“Good choice. The Queen of England stopped in to try some when she was touring the country. Since then, we send her ten gallons every month. See that letter on the wall? It’s from her. It says Friendly Fred’s Award Winning Chili is her favorite midnight snack.”
“Wow! I can hardly wait to try it.”
“That’ll be a dollar. Have a seat. I’ll bring it to your table.”
Harry couldn’t believe they’d serve him for buying a dollar’s worth of food.
He noticed patrons shoving chili into their mouths as fast as they could. Their satisfied looks increased his anticipation.
“Here’s your chili,” Charlie said. “Enjoy.”
When Harry dipped a spoon into the cracked bowl, a huge fly came to the surface. Its legs moved frantically as it swam toward a craggy chunk of meat. Harry almost threw up
“Hey, Charlie!” he yelled, “There’s a fly in my chili!”
“I know. I put it there.”
“Are you nuts?”
Charlie chuckled. “Not to worry. This ain’t the kind of fly that hangs around garbage cans and dog droppings. This fly was fed the finest organic Iowa corn and raised according to strict scientific standards in an ultra-sanitary laboratory. It’s a genetically engineered flavoring agent that won awards from the Pure Food and Drug Administration. In fact, it’s sweeter than gourmet honey.”
“Really?”
“Bite the head off and see. Or I can decapitate it for you.”
“Go ahead,” Harry said.
Charlie removed a tiny knife from his pocket. One quick stroke severed the fly’s head.
“What’s the best way to eat this?”
“It tastes best when sipped through a straw.”
Harry noticed two women at the next table sticking straws into their chili bowls. He did the same.
“Mmm,” Harry said. “This IS delicious. And so crunchy. Bring me another bowl. Make sure it’s loaded with flies.”
“Sorry. Only one fly per customer.”
“Why?”
“It’s a house rule.”
“Well, I think it’s a stupid rule.”
“I don’t make the rules. The chef does.”
“Can I see the chef?” Harry asked.
“Sure, but first you’ll hafta put on a special smock before going into our highly sanitized kitchen.”
The idea of a sanitized kitchen in such a crummy place sounded ridiculous. “Will I hafta get undressed to put the smock on?”
“Nope. It’ll fit right over your clothes. Oh, by the way, when you talk to the chef, the first thing you gotta say is trick or treat.”
“Sounds kinda weird,” said Harry, “considering tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day.”
“I know. But rules are rules. Follow me to the men’s room. That’s where we keep the smocks.”
The men’s room was unbelievably smelly and filthy.
Charlie opened a stall door and pulled a soiled smock from a hangar inside. “Try this on for size,” he said.
Harry slid the smock over his head and looked at himself in a crusty mirror. “Reminds me of a Halloween costume. Makes me look like an ear of corn.”
“A very cool-looking one,” said Charlie. “Don’t forget to say trick or treat when you talk to the chef.”
They left the men’s room and headed behind the counter. Charlie opened a scruffy door marked PRIVATE.
They walked down a long, grimy hall.
“Where the hell’s the kitchen?” Harry asked after they walked several hundred feet.
“We gotta take an elevator to get there.”
“Elevator? I never woulda guessed such a small place had one. Or a hall as long as this.”
“Can’t tell a book by its cover,” Charlie said.
Harry was amazed to find the inside of the elevator extremely clean. “How come there’s so many buttons?”
“There’s one for every floor. We’re going down five floors below street level.”
When the door opened, Harry saw a huge, immaculate room that reminded him of laboratories in science fiction movies. White-clad employees gazed at dozens of gauges and blinking lights, and pressed vast arrays of multi-colored switches. Dozens of overhead pipes were painted in a variety of bright colors.
“Damn! What’s that?” Harry asked, pointing to a huge, greenish, undulating blob.
“Our chef. She makes the flies for our award-winning chili.”
The greenish mass, to which dozens of steel tubes were attached, suddenly snorted. At that moment, the glutinous blob expelled a fly directly into a chili bowl.
Employees applauded wildly.
Harry thought he was gonna vomit. “I’m getting outta here,” he yelled, heading for the elevator.
Several people grabbed him. They bound his wrists and ankles with sterilized tape, then placed him on a stainless steel table just inches from the undulating blob.
“Hello,” the blob gurgled. “You’re the cutest hunk of corn I’ve seen all day. What’s your name?”
A lab worker whispered into Harry’s ear, “Tell her trick or treat, or she might get mad. Bad things always happen when she gets mad.”
Quivering, Harry said, “Trick or treat.”
“How nice of you to offer,” the blob said. “A treat would suit me just fine.”
A monstrous tongue lashed out. Harry disappeared.
Minutes later, the mass snorted and expelled another fly into a bowl. Everyone applauded.
A technician with magnifying glass and tweezers plucked minuscule clothing fragments from the fly.
Ten minutes later, a trucker called to Charlie, “Hey! What’s this thing floating in my chili?”
“A special kind of fly,” replied Charlie. Try it. It’s real sweet. And very, very fresh.”
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© 2008 Michael A. Kechula
Michael A. Kechula is a retired tech writer. His fiction has won first place in seven contests and placed in six others. He’s also won Editor’s Choice awards four times. His stories have been published by 124 magazines and anthologies in Australia, Canada, England, India, Scotland, and US. He’s authored a book of flash and micro-fiction stories: “A Full Deck of Zombies–61 Speculative Fiction Tales.” eBook available at www.BooksForABuck.com and www.fictionwise.com. Paperback available at www.amazon.com.
