Catch of the Day

Another writing sample. This is the second short story I ever wrote entitled "Catch of the Day". Enjoy.

The gleaming stainless steel oven sat in the middle of a pristine mahogany cabinet covered with carefully cleaned black marble. A sparkling four-burner range sat above the oven, each burner as clean as the day they were made. Above this perfectly maintained appliance was an exhaust fan that frequently spent long hours sucking in the heavenly aroma of lovingly prepared home cooked meals, and spewing them out for the neighbors to enjoy.

Off to the side of this culinary alter were long sections of counter space, a spotless sink, and a large refrigerator as shiny and clean as the rest of this kitchen. If it weren’t for the lingering scents of herbs and spices, and roasted meats, it would be easy to mistakenly believe that this culinary shrine to cleanliness had never been used.

It would be easy to make many assumptions about the keeper of this shrine. He must be obsessed with cleanliness, a wonderful cook, maybe a family man.  It would be much harder to guess the wonderfully malignant secret behind this man’s compulsive cleanliness.

#

Joseph Strauss is a kind man. He frequently nurses sick strays back to health and finds them a home. He views them as guests in his home and they quite like his cooking. Always dressed in muted colors, his clothes look freshly pressed and well cared for. Anyone that sees him and his kitchen knows that the two go together perfectly. Nails are always trimmed and neat, hair cut short and never mussed.

To see him in the street would be an invitation to ignore him. There is nothing spectacular about his appearance, just another banker, or lawyer, or middle manager on his way to work or home. Of course, this image is as carefully crafted as the culinary delights he whips up in his kitchen.

Joseph grew up dreaming of becoming a master chef. The eldest son of doting rich parents he was given the chance to chase his dream. After high school, he travelled the world embracing all new cuisine. He rejoiced in the subtle flavor changes through different techniques. Joseph experienced pure joy at trying new meats, spices, textures, and flavors. For years, his life was idyllic as he learned from master chefs, line cooks, and home cooks, even from tribal peoples deep in the jungle and the aboriginals in the Australian Outback.

He learned not just how to cook, but how to put his soul into his cooking, and how to take joy in the simplest change in the aroma of a dish after adding the smallest amount of a new ingredient. He learned to cook in any environment, but most importantly to tailor his cooking environment to his energy.

Yes, his life was perfect. Then it all ended. His family sent word that his father had died in an accident. He rushed home as soon as he could; he arrived just before the funeral. As he stared down at his father’s body surrounded by a black velvet casket liner that he began to wonder about human flesh.

The thoughts slowly crept into his mind. Questions about cooking temperatures, should it be grilled, fried, or broiled, what herbs would best enhance the flavor. At first, he thought it was just shock. The strain of seeing his beloved father lying in a casket, the guilt of not being around to say goodbye, had obviously caused his mind to slip a gear and turn to what it knew best. He thought.

#

As the years passed the money his father had made slowly dwindled, it paid for his brothers and sisters to attend college, for his mother to live comfortably, and for him to achieve the culmination of his dream by opening a fine restaurant. Joseph had finally become a master chef, and earned the distinction of being one of the few chefs that also butchered his own meat. He shunned the big cities of New York, Los Angeles, Miami, and Chicago, and instead he opened in Kansas City.

He supported local farmers by purchasing as much of his ingredients as he could locally and built a name for himself out of delicious food. Every night he took meals to local homeless shelters. He said these meals were made from excess food at the end of the day but his staff knew he spent hours preparing them especially for the shelters.

Yet all the time he wondered about human meat. He watched his customers and wondered what they might taste like. Would the meat from the calf be better than the meat from the ass? Could anyone tell the difference between a human liver and a cow’s? Would the fatty meat of a stomach yield the same succulent flavor and juiciness of pork belly?

They say curiosity killed the cat. In the case of Joseph Strauss, it killed a lot more than that. It happened after a long stretch of chef’s block. Chef’s block is a condition similar to writer’s block. It had been months since any item on his menu had changed. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t find the inspiration for anything new. The culinary world that had held him enrapture his entire life was now torturing him with an obstinate refusal to yield any new secrets.

Then one night he met Richard O’Neal, an obese man with a rosy red flush in his cheeks. It had been a long night in the restaurant, the staff was exhausted but all the customers had gone away happy. Except Mr. O’Neal. He had drunk enough to kill a bull, complained about every courses of his meal, and verbally abused Joseph’s staff.

Normally graced with a calm temperament, Joseph had reached the end of his rope. As he left, the kitchen to confront the obnoxious slob in his dining area a better idea slowly oozed its way into his mind. He gave Richard his meal free, and sat down with him to discuss his problems with the meal. He masked this politeness as curiosity, a chef wanting a customer’s opinion on how to do better, all the while feeding the fat man more and more alcohol.

By the end of the night, Richard was more than a few shades of drunk and Joseph was only too happy to call him a cab. He then took Richard’s car keys and gave Richard his home phone number with a promise to pick him up in the morning so he could retrieve his vehicle.

As the restaurant closed, he waited with Richard until the cab came, and then secretly followed the drunken man home. He guessed that any man who could spend a night away from home without calling probably had no one waiting for him. The lack of a second vehicle in the driveway or lights in the house made it seem certain.

Joseph drove back to his home and walked to the restaurant to retrieve Richard’s vehicle. The car gave no signs that it was ever used by anyone else, the registration showed only the name of Mr. O’Neal. Satisfied he took the car and drove to Richard’s house. No second thoughts ever crept into his mind. As far as he was concerned, this was no different than hunting in the wild for fresh game.

When he got to Richard’s house, he got out of the car and knocked politely on the door. When it wasn’t answered, he rang the doorbell until he heard grumbling from the other side. Dressed in a circus tent of a bathrobe Richard answered the door.

“Mr. Strauss? What the hell are you doing here?” He slurred in his drunken gruff voice.

“Mr. O’Neal, I am simply bringing your car to you as we agreed.” He answered, politeness dripping from every word.

“Ah yes… my car… I thought we agreed on tomorrow.”

“No sir, you said you didn’t feel safe leaving it in the neighborhood.”

“Did I? Well, in that case thank you for your trouble. Can I perhaps trouble you to pull it into the garage? Teenagers around here like to bust out windows.”

“No trouble at all Sir.” A tinge of happiness escaped in Joseph’s voice.

He returned to the car and pushed the button on the opener clipped to the sun visor. After carefully parking the car, he shut the garage door and walked into Richard’s house. So far his plan was going perfectly though now came the first of many tricky spots.

“Mr. O’Neal, I’ve got your car in the garage and shut the door.”

“Thank you sir, would you like me to call you cab?”

“That won’t be necessary I called one myself in the garage I’ll just go wait for it outside. You have yourself a goodnight.”

Joseph started for the front door before Richard stopped him.

“Nonsense, you can wait in here. Who knows how long it’ll take for a cab to get here.”

“That’s very gracious sir, but I wouldn’t want to disturb your evening.”

“No disruption at all. If I weren’t so drunk I’d take you home myself.”

“If you weren’t so drunk I wouldn’t be here sir.” Joseph laughed.

“Quite true.” Richard chuckled. “Come on and sit down, they can honk when they get here.

“Thank you.”

Joseph sat on an old musty smelling couch and looked around the living room. His first assumption about Mr. O’Neal was correct. The man was obviously single. The room was decorated in a second and third hand décor that no woman would’ve allowed to continue. The smell of stale cigarettes, old alcohol, rotting pizza boxes, and greasy fast food bags attacked his nose while the décor assaulted his eyes.

Richard sat in an old chair across from Joseph. Joseph began talking to him again about food, different cuisines and ways that Richard felt he could improve his restaurant. Richard was obviously tired in his voluminous bathrobe. His bloodshot eyes, sagging posture and the occasional snore as he drifted off all spoke of his fatigue. Joseph smiled.

#

The first thing Richard was aware of when he awoke was the jackhammer pounding inside his head. The second was that he couldn’t move followed quickly by the fact that his tongue wasn’t stuck to the roof of his mouth, but that a ball gag was strapped tightly around his head.

His eyes searched around the room. He took in the gleaming marble counters, the stainless steel appliances, and the collection of knives in front of him, and then started trying to scream through the gag. He had no idea how much time had passed before Joseph walked in dressed in butcher whites.

“Good morning Richard, don’t get up.” Joseph laughed as he walked to the sink and began washing his hands.

“I’m truly sorry you find yourself in this position. Though you expressed such intense interest in helping me improve my cooking that I thought you wouldn’t mind much.” Anger leaked out of his voice as he continued washing, scrubbing each finger individually.

Richard watched Joseph finish washing and drying his hands. He watched as Joseph puts on rubber gloves, and tried to yell again as Joseph sat in front of him.

“Now, now, Mr. O’Neal if you do that I’ll have to treat you like one of the cattle in my butcher shop. If I wanted that we would be there and not in my kitchen.” Standing up Joseph began to walk around Richard. Poking and prodding, sometimes squeezing as if he were assessing a cow or pig before purchase. Richard tried to recoil each time Joseph’s hands touched him but his bonds held him tightly in place.

“Now Richard, we need to talk.” Joseph bent down and looked the frightened fat man in the eye.

“I’m going to remove your gag, if you try to yell, or scream, or talk in anything more than a civilized tone I will have no choice but to bleed you. Nod if you understand.”

Richard nodded his head slowly.

“Good.” Joseph smiled as he reached behind Richard’s head and removed the gag.

“What are you going to do to me you wacko.” Richard kept his voice soft but filled with anger and tinged with fright.

“I’m not sure. At first, I was thinking of maybe a simple rump roast, maybe, with a nice honey lemon glaze, roasted potatoes and carrots. Does that sound good to you?”

“What?”

“I could maybe use your calves in a stew, or as filets. Really I’m not sure, what do you think would be best?”

“What?” Richard shook his head hoping he was having a problem hearing.

“How best would you be served? I think your liver would be rather like a cow liver. So a simple dish of liver and onions there. Boring but easily done. What should be done with your thighs though, and those extremely large breasts you have. I suppose I could butterfly those, stuff them with garlic, portabella mushrooms, ricotta cheese, maybe parmesan, pan seared then broiled in the oven. Does that sound good to you?”

“You’re nuts.” The realization slipped out before Richard could stop it.

“No, very rarely does a chef get to ask the meat how it would like to be prepared. Since you were so opinionated at my restaurant I thought it would be best to get your opinion before I cooked you.” Joseph’s voice was conversational, as if he were talking to another chef about ways to prepare favorite dishes.

“I’m not going to tell you how to cook me. Let me go.” Anger started rising into Richard’s voice.

“Now you’re stomach will present a bit of a problem. I’m thinking I can turn some of it into bacon, some of that fat will become lard obviously.” Joseph continued as if he hadn’t heard Richard.

“Let me go! This joke has gone far enough!” Richard yelled. In an instant, Joseph’s hand reached out with a rag covering Richard’s nose and mouth.

“I warned you Richard.”

#

Richard awoke to the smell of frying meat and the metallic taste of fear. His right leg throbbed with pain; his head pulsed with the beginnings of a major headache. A small groan escaped him involuntarily. He could feel he was still strapped to a chair. Joseph was standing at the stove his back towards Richard.

“Ah, you’re awake now.” Joseph said. He picked something up off the counter and grabbed a glass of water sitting beside it before walking over to Richard.

“You’re going to want to take these Richard.” He said softly holding his hand out to Richard. Two small pills sat on his palm.

“What are they?” Richards’s voice wavered in fear and grogginess.

“Pain killers, I suspect your head hurts.”

“What did you do to me?”

“Knocked you out of course. You didn’t want to help me, so there was no point in listening to you further. Do you want the pills?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Anger made his voice stronger.

“Suit yourself. Now, I said I was going to kill you. Obviously, I haven’t yet. I’m going to give you one last chance to save yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Richard said through clenched teeth. The pain in his leg was getting stronger. A burning throb moved from his ankle to his knee.

“I have prepared a special meal. I want you to try it. Give me your honest opinion and I’ll let you go. Are you sure you don’t want the pain killers?”

“What are they?” through gritted teeth.

“Just Aspirin.”

“Fine”

Joseph removed the strap from one of Richard’s arms and handed him the pills then the glass of water. After Richard took the pills, Joseph took back the glass of water and straped his arm back down.

“Just another ten minutes should do it. I really think you’re going to like this.” He said as he returned to the stove.

“What is it?” Teeth still clenched through the pain.

“Just something I whipped up. I think it tastes like ostrich myself, very tender and succulent. Though if you’ve never had ostrich I’m not sure what it’ll taste like.”

Richard’s headache slowly began to ease, and the pain in his leg lessened in sharpness. He stayed quiet trying to find a way out while Joseph finished cooking.

“So what’s the deal, if I like it I go free, if I don’t like it you kill me?” Richard’s voice was calmer, though still tinged with fear.

“If you like it, and can tell me why, then I’ll let you go. If you don’t like it, and can tell me why, then I’ll let you go. If you lie to me, then you’ll die. Are you ready?” Joseph’s voice stayed cold and matter of fact.

“I guess, I’ll need a hand to eat with though.”

“Of course.”

Joseph brought a plate to the table. On it, are chunks of meat cut into bite size pieces, green beans, and mashed potatoes covered in gravy. To Richard it looked like pot roast, but he knew he hadn’t been here long enough for Joseph to make a roast. Joseph set the plate in front of Richard with a plastic fork and released one of his arms.

“Bon apatite”

The smell of the meat made Richard realize he was suddenly ravenous. He couldn’t identify the meat, but he could smell the garlic and onions it was cooked in. The gravy on the potatoes looked to be made from the juices of the same meat.

“What is it?” he asked as he took a bite of the meat.

“Does it matter?  How does it taste?”

“Delicious.” Through a mouthful of food. He started shoveling it in, surprised at how hungry he was.

“Good. Now tell me what you like about it.” Joseph, sitting across from Richard now, leaned forward intently.

“Well the potatoes are nice and creamy, but the meat is so juicy and tender and really soaked in the flavor of the garlic and onion. It’s just so moist.” He finished the meat and went back to the potatoes and green beans.

“Good I was hoping you’d like it.” Pleased Richard stood and returned to the stove to get some food for himself.

“You know the tenderness of the meat is all about how fresh it is and the way it’s treated during cooking. It’s hard to get really fresh meat any more, that’s why I have my butcher shop. It helps ensure the freshest cuts of meat.”

He sat across from Richard and began eating, savoring each bite.

“So what is this meat, you said ostrich?” Finishing his meal Richard tried to keep Joseph distracted by food so he can use his free hand to remove his bonds.

“No, no, no, it’s not ostrich; I said it tasted like ostrich.” Joseph took another bite and moaned with pleasure.

“Actually this meat comes from your right calf muscle.” He said after swallowing.

Richard froze thinking he must have misheard. His free hand crept down his leg to verify that this is in fact a twisted joke. As his hand is exposed to the deformed area that was his calf muscle sharp pain surged through his body. The implication of that deformed muscle and the pain combined to force the contents of his stomach back out.

Joseph calmly stands up and walks over to Richard’s chair. Retching uncontrollably Richard was unable to resist as Joseph roughly tied his arm back down.

“YOU FAT FUCK, do you know how long it’ll take me to CLEAN THAT FILTH UP!” he yelled at Richard as he smacked him across the face.

“UNGRATEFUL BASTARD! I gave you two free meals, and THIS is how you repay it? I knew I should’ve just KILLED YOU!” He walked over to the counter and picked up a gleaming knife. He returned to Richard pointing the knife accusingly at him.

“I took great care of you. Made sure you were unconscious so I could cut the calf off without hurting you. I even used my sharpest knife so it would slice through easily. The meat wasn’t even damaged; DO YOU KNOW what kind of skill that takes Richard? It was like filleting a fish. Only YOU didn’t have to DIE to provide a meal!” He sent another ringing blow across Richards face.

“Then I could’ve let you bleed to death, you son of a bitch, but I didn’t DID I. No, I grabbed my blowtorch and cauterized your fat FUCKING leg so you could live. Do you realize how much meat got wasted by me searing your FUCKING leg like that?” Another blow landed and Richard sat hanging limp and unconscious against his bonds.

#

When Richard came to, he was hanging upside down. The pain in his leg throbs and stabs into him. He looked around himself and saw the dangling carcasses of pigs and slabs of beef; Joseph stood in front of him with a knife wearing butcher whites.

“Don’t say a word Richard. I only want to apologize.” He knelt down in front of Richard at eye level.

“I treated you so rudely back at the house. It will take me hours… maybe days to clean up and get the smell out but you did much more than make a mess. You brought back my passion for cooking. For that I owe you a thank you.”

“If you’re so thankful let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone.” Richards voice cracked with fear.

“I can’t do that Richard. You have an ample supply of meat on you and I intend to use it. Tomorrow you’ll be our catch of the day. You should be proud, only the best ingredients make it into those dishes.” Joseph stood and walked away from Richard towards a small radio sitting on a workbench. He gave Richard a glance over his shoulder.

“Goodbye Mr. O’Neal.” He said as he turns on the Radio. The uplifting sounds of Dire Straits singing “Walk of Life” filled the room. Richard’s screams mixed with the music creating a sickly sweet symphony of sound to accompany Joseph in his work. The screams ended once Joseph made the killing cut in Richard’s throat. He watched the blood drain onto the floor while dancing to the sound of the music.

As he began the job of butchering Richard, his hands did their work on autopilot with his mind already working on new meals that could be created from this former customer. All he knew is that he would waste as little as possible, and everything would be delicious.

#

One year later Joseph’s restaurant was busier than ever. An influx of new dishes with exotic ingredients graced his menu at reasonable prices. Dishes like Ostrich O’Neal, a succulent breast of ostrich butterflied and stuffed with portabella mushrooms, garlic, and parmesan cheese, pan-seared in a white wine, then broiled and served with roasted red potatoes, were an instant success.

Every new dish was met with praise from the critics, and customers alike. A new branch of his career opened up to him as he began doing interviews about his food. He published recipe books, and encouraged other chefs when they complained that their dishes never came out as good as his did.

He credited his success to his time traveling around the world, and the succulent ingredients that went into his dishes. At the height of his fame, he was even invited to prepare a meal for the President of the United States. He accepted graciously and blushed furiously when the President described it as the best meal he ever had.

No one knew where Joseph got his ingredients. No one watched him on his weekly walks talking with people on the streets, finding those with no one waiting for them. His years of experience, inspecting pigs and cattle, always lead him to the most succulent meat in town.