SS Archive

Dinnertime

[It was all the same. The meal, the time, the family, and even the environment. God damn dinner.. - Fiction]

Ever since mama found her old grandmothers recipe, a special pasta dish made from scratch, she has been making it everyday for dinner. Sure, I will agree that it is delicious but everyday is a bit much.

I wanted to be a good child so I ate it everyday without complaining. I have gotten sick of it..

.....

"Mama" I said hesitantly, watching her eat the dish like she hasn't eaten for weeks. She didn't bother looking at me. "Mama" I repeated, trying to get her attention.

Papa slammed his fist against the wooden, clothed table, "enough" he said firmly, glaring at me with his narrowed eyes of his that had a faint shimmer in them. His mouth was covered with red sauce along with his mustache and beard. "Eat your food, Sam." His tone was stern as he didn't seem like he was in the mood.

My eyes stammered, looking away with delayed movements. I picked my fork up and was about to eat the food until mama spoke up.

"What is it, Sam?" Her sharp eyebrows rose as I looked up at her. Papa looked at her annoyingly before going back to eating his dish like a pig.

"Shouldn't we eat other things..?" I asked with slight hesitance. I was able to tell that this was the best dish yet and that the lower people would eat this everyday with zero complaints. I couldn't though even if I lived in a mud bucket. "We can't just keep eating this." I pushed the plate, full of pasta, away from me and into the center of the table. Everyone looked at it hungrily almost like the plate of food was prey.

My little brother, Steven, grabbed a handful of pasta off my plate and shoved it into his mouth. Mama looked at him like she was offended by his lacking table manners. "Steven." Mama said sternly, her nostrils flared as she glared at Steven. My little brother stopped chewing, choking on a few pasta noodles that were now mush inside of his throat. "That is no way to eat at the table, where are your manners?" She didn't bother to hand him a glass of water or anything at all. Mama only crossed her arms as she continued to glare at him.

"Sorry, mama." Steven mumbled softly, grabbing his cup of water with his dirtied hand and gulped down the cold water like it was nothing. Gross, I thought as I cringed.

"Eat your food." Papa told me in his usual stern voice, wiping away the red sauce from his mouth and hairs but some of it was already stained into his mustache and beard.

I nodded my head, pulling my plate back towards me. Staring at the pasta noodles that had some of my brother's germs. I looked up at mama and thought that she would care and even give me a new plate of pasta but she didn't. Everyone went back to eating their pasta and even got another large portion of it.

It was only another day of eating this pasta..

.....

I, Samella Masonville, a 18 year old female who had dropped out of school after switching schools 5 times in the past due to moving around so much. Why? Because of my dad switching jobs every now and then.. some pay better than others. Always working so can afford my brother's education. Not mine though.

It has been about a full week since mama found this old recipe of her grandmother's. I would say that this recipe is cursed and that those who are related to her grandmother get this disgusting curse. I don't though. Perhaps this curse has favorites as well, maybe me not being one of them.

This was just another day of me starving, mama and papa hasn't even realized that I haven't been eating the pasta. I have only been watching them eat over and over again, filling their plates with mountains of pasta. Mama made two pots of it this time. They kept becoming fatter and fatter, especially Steven my little brother. He was always chubby but now he looks like a cat that has been stung by a thousand bees. Poor cat. Ma' and pa' were always so frail but they gained more weight, not being so stung up like Steven.

Mama hasn't been doing the dishes lately, the sink has been full since the beginning of the week. Dish after dish. The sink gets tortured and also gets all fat just like these animals that is apparently my family. I'm so sick of watching these pigs choke and eat with their hands like they haven't been fed at all. Perhaps they should starve after a little while.

.....

It feels like I have been glued to this table, arriving at the wooden table at the same time everyday. 6:50PM is the time that the pasta would be finished and ready to eat. The pots would be full all the way to the brim with pasta.

I might as well have an eating disorder. I can't eat anymore. I feel sick whenever I have to eat something now. Nothing seems so appealing to me anymore. Not even a fresh green apple that's been washed and ready to be eaten but I would rather waste it and watch it rot. I guess that's what I'm doing right. Watching my family eat like animals and watch them become fatter and fatter.

I give up.

.....

I have made an observation. Whenever I moved my plate to the center of my table, my brother is always the one who grabs a whole handful of pasta from the plate and shove it down his throat. Mama would then glare at him and scowl at him for terrible table manners. Pa' would always wipe his mouth and continue eating. Could this mean that I'm just stuck in a loop? A loop that brings me torture and the desire to self destruct?

.....

I haven't eaten for 2 whole weeks now. I feel so weak and small. Perhaps I should eat the pasta but I can't. My mouth dries up as soon as I look at the dish. My stomach would just shrivel up and feel like it's rotting. My appetite has been gone for a while and might not be back for a while. Do I have to eat?

.....

It's been 20 days now. Flies have been arriving at the dinner table. Landing onto the noodles of the pasta, laying eggs and perhaps even do whatever they usually do.

I just watched pa' eat a fly while eating his food like a rabid dog. The sink seems to get even fuller that means more chores for me.

.....

I'm hungry. My stomach keeps yelling at me and commanding me to eat. I think now is the time for me to follow the commands and eat like my family has been. This was day 34.

.....

Day 45, I didn't have the courage to eat on the 34th day. Call me a wimp if you want but the pasta just looks like worms and beetles, replacing the noodles and meatballs. Perhaps an exterminator is needed, I should call them after dinner time.

.....

I stopped counting the days, my body becoming frail as my bones seeped through my pale skin. I don't remember the last time I have gone outside to do a single chore or errand for ma' and pa'. I picked up my fork and forced the blades through a big beefy beetle, urging it up to my mouth until I dropped my fork completely. Everyone looked at me with wide eyes, their eyes unfamiliar and red. This wasn't my family anymore.

.....

Hearing their body go to work to digest all the food was disgusting. I should stop them and have them be put down like they were dogs with rabies. I don't want to of course but I had to. They can't be my family anymore.

.....

I have finally eaten. This was the first time that I felt at peace and full in forever. The dinner table is quiet this time and I get to eat whenever I want but there would be plenty of leftovers for a small while.

{End of "Dinnertime"}

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