World Famous Pie. Famous Pie. Pie.

Your weekly liminal messages.

Find out more at nauticalgoat.ca/vma

Transcript:

It is 3:14 am. The 25th of June. I pulled off the road into one of those truck-stop restaurant diners. As I got out of my car, the neon fresh pie sign lit up my face, drawing me like a moth to a flame.

There were 2 other cars in the parking lot.

When I looked into the diner it was full. Rowdy children and stressed parents, well-managed staff on roller skates and what I would presume to be regulars sitting at the counter. An odd sight for this hour of the morning.

I opened the first door and a wave of fresh pancakes, warm coffee and sweet pastries bombarded my senses.

Becoming more eager for this much needed refreshment from the dreary drive, I opened the second door.

Now, there was only one man sitting at the counter. Hunched over his coffee. The lights had dimmed and the pie sign flickered. A thick layer of dust sat on every surface, except for the seat beside the man who was also covered in dust.

Without looking up, he gestured for me to sit.

I sat.

He looked into his coffee which had gone a grey colour from the dust mixed into it.

“Welcome,” His voice was gruff and dry.

Before I could reply, he said “World famous pie, don’t forget to tip.”

I felt heavier now, grasped by the seat.

For the first time, the man looked up, contently smiled and said “Thanks.”

He slid over his cup. It fit well in my hand.

He crumbled to dust.

I jumped up startled only to find I hadn’t moved at all. The cup, heavy like concrete, held my hand in place.

I couldn’t move.

I didn’t want to move.

The clock-radio blinked and blinked. Morse code.

[Morse code plays]

Y O U R T U R N Your Turn.

I sat there for days.

Days turned into weeks.

No one entered.

I never grew tired and I never slept.

The dust piled on me. My mouth dry, not able to utter cries for help, not like that would have worked.

After 4 months of sitting beside a pile of dust, myself also coated with a thick layer of grey, I woke up.

Laying prone behind the right rear tire of my car, I sat up. Coughed up a handful of dust and opened the driver’s door. A cloud of fine particles puffed as this happened. When it settled I noticed the car was covered just as I had been.

Wiping off the seat, I climbed in and checked my phone.

It was 3:19 am, the 25th of June.

I lowered all the windows and pulled away from the diner which was completely dark and empty, not a car in sight.

As I sped off back onto the highway,

The pie sign flickered back on.

C12

$2.00

This is Vending Machine Airwaves.
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Find out more at nauticalgoat.ca/vma.
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