The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Twenty-Nine
Pink Cupcakes for a Birthday Wish
Lunch
was a hit. But Sam really did not think it would be anything less.
Jessi’s recipe for the new pork dish was nothing less than
brilliant. Sands begged for a third but Sam held up a hand.
“Sorry,
Agent Sands. But I want you to have room for dessert. It is extra
special, in honor of his birthday.” Sam pointed towards the
ceiling. A number of them nodded, eyes upward, some pointing
themselves.
“That’s right, that’s right,” a
few
commented as the were reminded.
Jesus, Mort thought, there
they go again. A bunch of finger pointing idiots. He turned his back
to them, swinging in his chair towards the wall and attempted to
strangle his ball point pen. Wake up you morons, he thought,
he’s
the reason you’re all stuck here. Christ, there’s
not a whole
brain combined among them. I bet Depp would laugh his ass off if he
knew a room full of idiots was wishing him birthday greetings.
I
hope to Christ they don’t break out in song.
If they do, Mort
promised himself, he’s wrangle Sparrow’s pistol and
shoot himself
in the head.
“You haven’t eaten your lunch, Mr.
Rainey,”
Mort spun around and found Sam standing on the other side of the
desk. “Don’t you like it, sir?” he asked
in a timid voice.
Mort glanced down at the bowl. It looked like any other chili
con carne. At first he was going to refuse, but took note how much
everyone else in the room seemed to enjoy the dish.
He sighed
as he opened the top left drawer to the desk and snagged the open bag
of Doritos. Mort dumped a number of the chips directly on the desk
next to the steaming bowl and stuffed the bag back into the drawer.
He started to slam in shut then remembered Pvt. Lerner. He looked
over and found the soldier wide awake, eating, so he went ahead and
pushed the drawer hard.
He picked up a chip and shook it in
Sam’s direction.
“You know what would make this the perfect
lunch, Sam? If I had a cold can of…”
Before the writer
could finish, Sam produced a can of Mountain Dew, popping the lid and
put it down on the desk.
“You’re my main man, Sam.” He
reached over and swallowed hard from the can. He brought it down with
a “ahhh” and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then
picked up a
spoon and shoveled into the pork dish.
Mort winced at first
at the heat, sucking in air to cool his mouth, but once he got it
under control continued to eat.
Damn, he thought, this Jessi
girl knows her way around pork. Before he knew it the bowl was empty.
He pushed it away towards Sam and gave a belch.
“Good s--t,
Sam, gotta give you that” Sam smiled as he cleared the desk..
Now,
it was only a matter of time.
“I’ll be back with
dessert,” he informed Mort and headed back to the kitchen.
A
few minutes later he popped in his head and asked them to turn off
the lights. Axel quickly obliged. As The Room plunged into darkness
there came a few surprised yells and someone shouted “I
can’t see
a damn thing!”
Sands retorted with, “Welcome to the
club!”
The kitchen door swung open and Sam stepped out,
carrying a tray that looked as if it were on fire. Sparrow felt
himself involuntary flinch and grabbed his elbow as he recalled his
earlier mishap.
“Everybody sing!” Sam called for the
birthday song. It started slow, then gained momentum as more voices
joined in until it ended with a grand finale of
“Happy
Birthday, dear Johnny! Happy Birthday to You!”
A round of
clapping filled the room as they finished. Then they all stood there.
Waiting.
“Well, now. This is a pickle, is it not?” Came
Wood’s revelation. “Whose going to blow those 41
candles out for
our boy?”
A rumble of voices filled the room as they
discussed the question. Someone suggested they take a secret ballot
vote. Another said they should draw straws. A third came that they
all should gather around and blow.
“Quit screwing the pooch
and blow the f--king candles out!” Sands yelled.
“Jesus, guess
I’ll have to pick.” They watched as Sands got to
his feet and
slowly made his way to the center of the room. The crowd shrunk back
as he withdrew his pistol and began to go in a slow circle.
“Eenie…meenie…minee...moe…my
freaking mother told me to pick
you!”
Sands stopped leveling his pistol straight out.
“Who
the f--k is our lucky contestant today!” he asked.
“Raphael!”
came the answer.
“I don’t want to.” The Brave answered.
“Besides, it’s not even a whole birthday cake.
It’s a bunch of
cupcakes…pink ones at that. Whoever heard of pink cupcakes
for a
guy’s birthday party?”
Sam pouted. “His friend,
Katerina makes them for him every year. I thought it would be
nice.”
he explained.
“Well, I think it’s swell, Sam. They look
good enough to eat. Heck, come on, everyone, let’s all just
give a
blow and send our good wishes to our boy!”
A few of the men
gathered around and on the count of three inhaled then released with
all their might. The flames flickered beneath their breaths and in
seconds the room went dark.
Someone flicked The Room’s
lights back on and Sam began to hand out a pink cupcake to each of
the ‘party' guests. But he noticed there was one guest that
was
not there to claim his sweet dessert.
He noticed that Mort was
not at his desk.
Sam smiled.