The windows were up and the wind soaring past the huge metal doors beckoned to thrust into his face. The truck driver ignored the low whooshing sounds outside and kept his concentration on the road. His right hand was firmly placed on the manual and the other at 12 o’ clock on the steering wheel. His thoughts, however, quickly drifted towards his huge hunger. The truck driver was a hefty glutton. In fact, the gut barely fit in the seat, and even with the seat as back as it could go, he was still pressed for space. He was a huge man of large proportions; Not exactly obese, but more of a fit,overweight person. Images of dinner made home in his mind. His wife had always cooked generous portions of food for him, since he was the ‘man of the house’. With nostalgia, he remembered shoving food into his face and going through plates like a castaway just returned home. With little or no judgment, he turned a dicey, evasive shift to the left into a Flying J, hoping to get his hands on some delicious,hot food.
When he entered, the truck driver couldn’t help but buy a bit of everything. At the table, he sat alone, picking and voraciously consuming chicken, ramen, rice, and deserts. The man ate three times his size. Finishing up, he hastily threw away his tray, dropping a few items to the ground but paying no attention to them. An attendant shot him an evil look and picked up, reluctantly, after the truck driver.
———-
At home, his step daughter sat at his table, rejoicing in his monthly disappearance. Her brother too, rejoiced. The house was much more quiet in his absence. Together, they sat at his supposed table and ate dinner. Sitting across from each other, they recalled the countless times they had seen their disgusting step father slurp up food like a vacuum, leaving pieces all over the table and himself. It sickened them so much, they thought about going somewhere else to eat, but stayed out of spite. Sometimes, while he ate, his food would end up on their plates, stealing their appetites for the rest of the day. The truck driver would then enjoy their food, eating it up like a vortex. His wife has always told him that he shouldn’t eat so quickly or so much, but despite her concern, the man contorted his face like a pig and ignored her advice. He was always ill-mannered anyway, and they had all become accustomed to his dirty way of living. None of them would ever want to be seen with him in public because he always made a spectacle of everything, and claimed that yelling was his only pitch of voice and that they would have to deal with that. The young girl mouthed the words I hate him to her brother, who only nodded in approval.
————
Back on the road, the truck driver felt at ease. He was overly full and contented. He was a solo driver, so he never had to share his food with anyone. He was glad that, according to himself, no one was compatible with him. Truth be told, no one could stand him and all refused to drive with him. Feeling a bit lonely, he stretched his left arm to pick up the phone on the side of the steering wheel, hoping to ring his wife. He felt his left arm had become weak and was tingly all over. It was in hot pain. He thought that was very strange and new to him, but only ignored it. He flipped the phone open, and with his right hand on the wheel, used his left to try to dial the numbers. There was not much strength in his arm and he was having difficulty pushing the buttons. There was a surge of pain in his chest, and his muscles tightened. He dropped the phone on the floor and clutched his breast. He tried to calm himself down and tried to keep focusing on the road. Another pang of shock hit his chest, this time compiled onto the left side. He clutched even harder now, his eyes widened with fear, and his face became pallid in mere seconds. Seconds later, another jolt of pain, and his head shot back in discomfort. He winced his face in pain, the wrinkles around his eyes over emphasizing his age. His eyes opened quickly again and glared at the road with fierce intensity. Now he knew he needed to get off the road, and figured this would be simple since there was no one else but him driving. He tried to let go of his chest, but the shock returned causing him to bring his hand back immediately.
He looked towards the sky and prayed that the heavens would help him. There was no answer. He gasped for air. There seemed to be something obstructing his air way and his chest tightened more and more. He placed his right hand on his throat, trying to alleviate whatever was blocking him from breathing. The muscles in his chest released and then pushed together with even more force. On his face was the look of utter trepidation and his eyes looked like they were about to fly out of their sockets. He no longer had his hands on any of the truck’s controls and it was slowly turning itself to the left, going at nearly 80 miles per hour. He tried to takes his hands off of himself but there was some invisible power keeping them glued to his body. The truck made a sharp twist to the left and now the truck was teetering on it’s side. Loud sparks emanated from the metal body scraping across the imperfect pavement. The beautiful sparks resembled a very grave fireworks display, but it was aesthetic in its own way. Inside the truck cabin, the driver had slammed his head into the car door and red was leaking from every orifice on his face, mingling with the salty tears of emotional and physical pain. Finally, the sparks created a squealing fire that engrossed the gigantic metal creature. The truck driver had finally realized that he was suffering from a heart attack and that this was the end of his life. In his head, the past few minutes replayed over and over again. He thought not of those that mattered most to him, he did not ask the heavens for any more help, and instead thought of where he went wrong in life to end up like this. With the last shivering gasp of breath he gave, he saw the image of himself reflected as a young child, and in the moment, the hot metal burst apart in a release of determination.
———-
His step children were playing outside when they looked at each other and felt horribly uneasy. They questioned each other but dismissed their emotions and kept on playing. Their mother rushed outside, phone in hand, yelling and screaming at them, tears rushing down her eyes. She dropped the phone and her children ran to her in the hopes of consoling her. They draped themselves over her, and from the other side of her shoulders, stared at each other with a look of indifference on their faces. The police had arrived to take her down to the morgue to confirm the body. The two siblings watched as the police car rounded the corner, standing in the middle of the street, listening to the silence of a new eternal quiet.
3 Comments
December 23, 2008 at 3:21 pm
You served up quite a ‘delicious’ story. Feel a bit bad for the step father but at least he got to eat “three times his size.” Great writing!
December 30, 2008 at 8:45 pm
Shit.
Poor guy.
I was wide-eyed and nervous lol.
-cries-
Great story.
June 15, 2009 at 8:53 pm
I loved it
It was well great