Haute Cuisine

The three men sat at the ancient oak table. The hall around them was grand and ancient. It was edged along the ceiling and the floor in strange patterns along the baseboard and trim. The effect was chilling. The room seemed to be looking at you from the intricate patterns. Each time you thought you could distinguish what looked to be an eye in the carving, the image seemed to shift. The room had a door for every point of the compass. The three had come through different doors and taken their seats. They knew better to address each other. They wore silk hood masks which covered and disguised all but their mouths. They waited patiently for their dinner.

The man in grey entered through the south door. The door that none of them had used. The door no one came or went from other than the grey man. It was entirely possible that no one was on the other side of that door. It was rumored that he cooked, served and cleaned here entirely himself. He pushed a trolley draped in black cloth with a silver serving dish covered with a giant dome shaped silver cover. The smell pervaded the minute he crossed the threshold. It was epicurean all in itself. People would probably pay exorbitant amounts just to smell such food. The price the three had paid to eat it was something else entirely. They were part of the Dark Dinner Club and they knew the cost.

The arrangement was simple. Each year 13 members were admitted to the club. Every month four names were drawn. The first three got to eat. The last was eaten. Additionally each Christmas hors d'oeuvres were served to a lottery of twelve with the thirteenth unlucky soul being the dish. Most would say it was ghoulish. Most had not sampled what the grey man kept under the silver dome. If you had second thoughts they didn't last past the entrance of that first smell. Joining this society was a guarantee that you would be on the inside track for life as long as it lasted. If ever such a thing as the Illuminati existed, this was it. They ate, then the grey man left. After that the three always lingered and had brandy or smoked cigars. Millions of dollars, if not billions were influenced by those after dinner conversations.

The three this evening were the politician, the computer mogul, and the telecom giant. Lots of business would be done later tonight. That was a thing for later though. No one had a thought in their head except for ravenous hunger and desire to get to the source of the smell.

The table was set with impeccable silver and china. Despite how rich the three were, they had honestly never seen its quality before. The man finally got to the table. No one spoke to him. He would not have spoken back if they had. He never conversed, he just served the meal. Once he had portioned it three ways evenly he condensed the serving plates and utensils. He left an envelope on the table. It contained the names of next month's guests and next month's menu. It was the responsibility of the men eating now to ensure all attended. They could care less until they glutted themselves on the black ambrosia.

They finished nearly together. It was incredible how if you ate as fast as humanly possible you could finish within seconds of each other. The speed with which they consumed the meal bordered on supernatural itself.

The computer mogul slipped the paper out of the envelope. It was tradition to all look together. Names rarely repeated themselves but it could happen. If they looked together there could be congratulations if there was a repeat diner. They would also be able to commiserate if one of them was to be dinner. The paper was pushed to the middle of the table and splayed open. It seemed in the most unlikely scenario in the history of the club all three names were on the slip. The only problem was that the politician and the computer mogul were going to be dining with a certain Hollywood bad boy. The telecom giant looked pale. The other two watched closely to see what he would do. He jumped up and ran to the door behind him.

The door was locked. The other two waited while he tried each of their doors. No one had ever not come to the dinner, regardless of whether they were guest or comestible. They along with the other members had sufficient resources to find him anywhere. No one member had the solitary resources to dodge the combined will of the other members. The frantic man had one last option. He ran toward the grey man's door. The other two were taken aback. No one would have ever considered such a thing in their estimation. It was ludicrous. The dinner club was nearly four hundred years old. It had changed venue over the centuries, but no one member ever helped it relocate or knew anything about it till they received a new address for it in a letter. This building had been used longer than any current member had lived. The one thing that was unilateral between all the venues was that no one ever went through the grey man's door. He had his hand on the knob before they could get across the room. He opened the door.

Reality turned in on itself. The structure ceased to exist. Everything went black inside and out. The entirety of reality became out of synch.

Months later the combined efforts of the remaining club members found a survivor. It was the telecom giant. He was found on skid row in Los Angeles half starved to death and drunk. They brought him to a closed location to question him. He had only one thing to say.

"They are practicing till they get the recipe right!"

THE END

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