Chapter 29
Back to the Ending
Crosby
is a small town. Quiet. Its people are pleasant, but prefer to keep to
themselves. The few shops there never stay open past six o’clock, except, for
the Eats All Nite diner, an old fueling station that stands alone in a vast
parking lot on the outskirts. The diner honors its name. The gas pumps have
been dry for a few years now, but many truckers still make a point to stop over
for Old Man Sam’s filling meals, topped with his famously delectable brownie.
Samuel Burton’s wife, Maggie—gone two years now—won many a Blue Ribbon for
those.
Currently,
Sam balances a white plate, featuring an enormous chocolate brownie, topped
with whipped cream, hot fudge, chocolate sprinkles and a plump maraschino
cherry. He passes a young couple, Kurt and Annie, who sit in a booth and follow
the dessert plate with their eyes. He sets the plate down in front of Gary—a
clean-cut truck driver—and wrinkles his nose. “You hauling fish again this
week, eh, Gary?” he says, and smiles. His upper denture shifts and he
repositions it with his tongue.
“Enjoy!”
Annie tells Gary from the next booth.
Gary
looks up at the couple and frowns. “You’d better believe I’m going to enjoy
this,” he says, waving his fork, “‘cause I work hard for my money. I pay my
taxes and have never taken a dime from anybody. Saved up and paid for my rig
out there cash” —he points out the diner’s rail car style window— “and nobody’s
going to take that away from me,” he opens his jacket to reveal a gun in its
holster. “That’s why I carry this baby,” he says, and pats his weapon.
Speechless,
the couple turn to each other and sink back into their seats.
The town was really Tacoma,
Washington. Johnny and I had been looking for Enumclaw (another town apparently
not too far away) for hours. It was three in the morning and we were falling
asleep at the wheel. We pulled into a Friendly's
to get some coffee—though hungry, it's all we could afford on our tight budget
(we were 3000 miles from home)—and salivated when the waitress passed us, in
what seemed like slow motion, with said brownie. She set it before the only
other patron in the place—who happened to be sitting in the booth next to ours.
Johnny and I both said "Enjoy!" at the same time but our editor
advised it was better to give the line to one person. Everything that comes out
of Gary's mouth is pretty much word for word what that guy said (except he paid
for his house—not his rig—cash). And then he unveiled his gun. We will never
forget that gun. As Canadians, we don't often (if ever) get to see a
gun-carrying civilian and that pretty much freaked us out. As writers, though,
we thanked our lucky stars and pocketed that incident—eager for the day when we
could put it into one of our stories.
A few people have commented that WHEREWOLVES is such a realistic tale
that the brownie scene—Gary in particular—feels a little cartoonish. They find
it odd that we've created such an outlandish character amid such authentic teens.
We don't laugh, though, knowing that 'Gary's' is the only factual scene in WHEREWOLVES. Actually, for us, it's a
little chilling and sobering. We've since stopped off at Friendly's (they can be found all over the US) and we assure you
that that brownie is as delicious as it looks. Even so, it left us with the
taste that life is much more fantastic than fiction.
Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, John & Olga!
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