A Riot aat Mike's Diner

There's nothing like a good old-fashion food fight. Vegeterian Arthur McGee picks a fight with one of the diners at Mike's Diner over a burger instigating a serious food fight.

Riot at Mike’s Diner

I love a good burger!   There’s something about a juicy, tender, succulent, grade- A patty stuck between a soft sesame seed bun to get your taste buds flowing.  Everything about a burger is sexy.  Come on, what’s not to love about burgers?    I’m about to have one now.  I’m sitting on a booth now at Mike’s Diner, a 50’s-style restaurant in lower Manhattan.    The Jukebox is playing an old Elvis Presley song.  I think it’s Love me Tender.   But I’m not really an Elvis fan, so I can’t be sure of the track.  There’s a soda fountain machine over at the bar.  Bill, the Bartender is busy mixing ingredients for shakes.  I can hear the whirring of the blender in the background.  Customers are lined up at the bar, perched on chromed stools as they wait for their shakes to arrive.

Ah, there’s my burger.  I can hear it sizzling on Tina’s tray.  The juices from the burger are flowing down unto the plate.  A thick, chocolate milkshake accompanies my order and I can almost taste the milky chocolate concoction, its creaminess leaves a milk moustache on my upper lip. Tina sets the tray on a nearby mobile cart and puts the quarter pound bacon cheese burger right in front of me.

The aroma hits my nostrils, sending me to high heaven.  I can smell the smokiness of the bacon melting the cheddar cheese.  The plumpness of the quarter pound burger looks quite appetizing.  The special sauce smells divine and it not only drenches the burger with its tanginess, but makes my mouth water and my stomach rumble.  As I am about to plunge my teeth into this divinity,  I stop and turn around.  I could feel the icy stare of some stranger eyeing me in contempt from across the room.  He turns his nose up.  I can see him grimace with disgust.

“There’s nothing that revolts me more,” he says to his wife who is devouring a piece of vegan cake, “than the offensive smell of grease and the sight of bloody slaughtered beef.  It completely puts me off my vegemite sandwich. “

His wife looks up at her husband.  She puts down her fork and stares at him.  “Now, Art, please don’t cause a scene.  I know we’re vegetarians, but we have to respect non-vegans, too.” says his wife.

“Sheila, please, I’m not causing a scene.  But surely you can agree with me that the smell of that beef, dripping in blood makes you want to hurl.”  Art turns his head and looks my way.  “I mean.....consider the poor cow they slaughtered to satisfy that woman’s whim?  What sin did that defenceless cow commit to make someone slaughter him just to satisfy a carnivorous craving?”

Sheila rolled her eyes at her husband.  “Art, we must all respect our neighbours' preferences.  Just because we are vegans doesn’t mean we have to disrespect other people’s preferences.   Just finish your vegemite sandwich and let’s get out of here, for God’s sakes.”

Art kept staring at me.  He turned to his wife.  “You know, Sheila, I think they ought to divide restaurants into two sections...you know, like they do with smoking and non-smoking sections.  They ought to have a carnivorous section and a vegan section........but they should put the carnivore section in the basement.”

“Oh, Art.......you can be so childish and idiotic sometimes.  Now shut up and eat.”  They sat in silence for a few minutes.  Art kept boring his eyes at me.  I couldn’t stand it any longer.  I stood up and approached their table.

“Hey, Mr.......Did you lose something?  You keep staring at me.  It’s impolite.” I said.  Art stopped eating and looked up at me.  His face morphed into an undignified grimace.

“Lady, you are the one who is impolite..........YOU and your carnivorous cravings!” Art yelled.

“What?”  I asked.  “What are you going on about, Sir?”  I put my hands on my hips.  I wasn’t going to be insulted by a grumpy diner.

“You heard me, lady.  Why must you chomp on a poor defenceless slaughtered cow?  You people make me sick!  It’s people like you that are killing our world.”

“Don’t you talk to me like that!  How dare you stare at me so rudely and insult me like this! I’m calling the manager!” I yelled.   The man’s wife sunk down on her side of the booth feeling ten inches tall.  She looked at me as if to say,  “Don’t look at me............I don’t know this man.”

Art rose from his seat.  He towered over me.  He must have been six feet six inches.  He stared down at me.  His breath smelled of rapeseed oil and brewer’s yeast.  “Go ahead, lady, I’d like to speak to the manager as well.  I have a great suggestion for him.”

At this time we were getting inquisitive stares from other diners.  The bartender looked up from the bar.  I glared at this six-foot-and-then-some stranger and called Tina over.  Tina rose her head up from her seat at the bar.  She was calculating someone’s bill at the time.  She slowly rose and approached us.  “What seems to be the problem, folks?” she asked.

“The problem is that this......this Moran......keeps staring at me and has insulted me.  I want to speak to the manager about him!” I said.  Tina tried to defuse the situation and asked us both to calm down.

“Sorry, toots, but this woman has revolted me with the smell of putrid grease and road kill.  Now she has insulted me and my wife.”  Art said.

“I haven’t said anything about your wife!” I screeched.  At this point I was losing my patience.  “Tina, please get the manager.......NOW!”  Tina turned and headed towards the kitchen.   Art hurled an arsenal of obscenities my way which startled some of the diners.   That was it...the turning point...........the straw that broke the camel’s back.   Reaching towards his table, I grabbed a slice of vegemite sandwich and smeared it all over Art’s face.  Art tumbled back on his heels, stunned at my actions.

“Why, you carnivorous, b***h!  You’ll pay for that!” Art barked.  He grabbed a piece of his wife’s vegan cake and smeared it all over my face.  The cake slithered down my neck and over my dress.   Grabbing hold of someone’s chocolate shake, I threw it at Art, but it drenched some other diner instead.   Art laughed..........a haughty, ugly cackle of a laugh which shook the Diner out of its foundation.   The diner rose in anger and threw a whole burger in mid air, landing at the back of Art’s bald head.  

“Who threw that disgusting piece of meat at me?” Art asked as he turned around.  He picked up a piece of apple pie and threw it at the diner but it hit a woman instead.  The woman threw her steak and kidney pudding at the man, missing and hitting the bartender.    The bar tender grabbed a pitcher full of strawberry milkshake and threw it at the woman, landing on Art’s wife.

“Mama Mia” cried the manager of Mike’s Diner as he walked in from the kitchen with Tina. “What have they done to my Diner?”  Just as he said this he was smacked on the face with a whole lemon meringue pie.   “Tina, who started this fiasco?” he asked his employee.  Tina scratched her head nervously.

“Marie said that that man over there was rude to her.” Tina answered her boss in a squeeky, mousy voice.  Her boss wiped the meringue off his face and moustache.

“Ah, I see,” Mike said as he grabbed a Key Lime pie off the shelf from the counter.  He flung it at Art.  Art nearly tumbled over.  “Out.....Out of my Diner, you slime ball!” Mike said.  Art picked up a plate of spaghetti and threw it at Mike but it landed on top of Tina’s head.  The place was all covered in food as diners flung plates of food around the joint and at each other.

Just then, the doors flung open and a couple of cops stumbled in blowing whistles and waving batons.   The diners took no notice of them and continued their fray.  The cops ran every which way to try to establish order but fell on top of each other as they slipped on banana peels on the greasy floor.   The room stood still at the sound of a whistle followed by a booming voice coming from the entrance door.  A tubby little officer walked in shouting from the top of his lungs.

“HEY! Silence, you lawless bunch of maggots!” he yelled, calling for order.   From across the room someone hurled which started a wave of sick diners like a domino effect, drenching the unsuspected officer.

“Was it something, I said?” said the chief of police in a monotone.  “Officers, rustle them up like cattle and take them all down to the station, please.  They ought to learn not to play with their food!”   One by one the officers rounded the diners up and placed them all under arrest and into a paddy wagon for causing a scene and disturbing the peace.

Author's Note

Author notes

I created this story as part of a writing exercise.

The Exercise:

Describe a food, using all your senses. Observe it visually, of course, but also include texture, smell and taste. Describe it again, but in a way that makes it disgusting: how a big juice steak, for example, must appear to a vegetarian.

Reviews

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Well, I think you completed you writing exercise very well, you included texture, taste and smell, while also making sound disgusting. Personally, I can't figure out why the silly vegan would even enter Mike's Diner, it sounds like the perfect place for a carnivore.