Trigger warning: offensive and insensitive language, racial slurs.
“Didn’t touch! Only looked!” wailed Eddie, the dishwasher at the Q.E.D. Lounge. The waitstaff came running into the kitchen upon hearing a tremendous crash. Shattered crystal covered the kitchen floor – the new shipment of assorted glasses for the lounge’s grand opening.
Eddie huddled in the corner wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, whimpering like a frightened boy. Due to that one decisive extra chromosome, Eddie was very much like a child – a 32 year old man with the mind of an eight year old. Just a little thing called Down Syndrome. Eddie’s brother Jay, the maitre d’, crouched down next to him while everyone stood in stunned silence.
“Eddie, accidents happen. It’s gonna be ok” Jay said calmly. “C’mon, bud. We’ll help you clean up.”
Without hesitation the crew grabbed brooms and dust pans – everyone except Lou, the belligerent bartender.
“Don’t look at me. I ain’t helping!” snarled Lou. “It was that goddamn retard’s fault. He shouldn’t even be around normal people, fucking mongoloid!”
Jay clenched his fists, eyes glaring at Lou.” Shut your filthy mouth, you miserable son of a bitch! Don’t ever talk about my brother like that!”
Martin Byrnes, manager of the Q.E.D., stormed into the kitchen. “What the hell’s going on?!” Slowly he looked around, taking in the whole scene. Martin asked everyone to leave except Eddie, Jay and Lou.
Martin spoke softly. “Eddie, it’s ok. I’m not mad. Can you tell me what happened?”
Eddie glanced over at Lou, then shook his head ‘no’.
“Mr. Byrnes is real good to us, Eddie. He deserves the truth” Jay added encouragingly.
Eddie sniffled and rubbed is swollen eyes. “I saw all the boxes and I was curious, Jay, but I didn’t touch them, cross my heart and hope to die. Then Lou, he came rushing in the back door and pushed me into the boxes and they fell.”
“You lying freak!” yelled Lou. “I was out back chasing that bum who’s always looking for a handout. Eddie’s mangy mutt was there and he tore a hole in my pants cuff!”
“Yeah, after you kicked him, I’m sure” declared Jay.
“Ok, Lou. What happened when you came back into the kitchen?” asked Martin. “Were you so ticked off at the dog that maybe you bumped into Eddie?”
“Look, Mr. B. I’m telling you I didn’t do nothing” sneered Lou. “Who you gonna believe – this idiot or me?”
“Alright! That’s enough! What’s done is done.” Martin sighed. “Jay, you and Eddie finish cleaning up in here. Lou, go down to the basement and bring up whatever glasses you can find. We’re opening tonight as planned.”
Disgruntled, Lou headed for the basement. He remembered a prior shipment of glasses that Martin didn’t particularly like. Rather than return them, they were put in storage. And there they were, two towers of boxes at least four feet fall.
“Why am I stuck doing this shit job? Where’s that lazy spic busboy?” Lou grumbled. He walked to the delivery entrance and shouted “Hey, Manuel! Get in here!” Then he gave a shrill whistle.
Manuel didn’t answer Lou’s command but Eddie’s dog Arlo did. He was still smarting from the swift kick in the ribs from Lou’s pointy patent leather shoe. Arlo growled and inched closer, baring his sharp canines.
Lou backed up as fast as he could but he wasn’t fast enough. Arlo sank his teeth into the bartender’s calf and wouldn’t let go. He meant business and was out for revenge – for himself and for Eddie.
Spinning around like a whirling dervish, Lou smashed into the stacks of boxes. He fell to the floor as splintered wood and jagged glass rained down on him. As a final coup de grâce, Arlo lifted his hind leg, pissed on Lou’s patent leather shoes and trotted out the door.
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