Their Last Supper

Missy met Daniel at a park while escaping a Frisbee flung at her head. Daniel fled to her side to apologize. His best friend Ace had lobbed it in her direction by accident. Missy glanced over Daniel’s shoulder to see this friend, in his bare-chested attire, waving at them. But Daniel was in no hurry. He had a gentleness about him, with his dark hair and olive skin. Missy wanted to touch him as soon as possible.

They were in each other’s pants days later. The shine of her auburn hair and blue eyes radiated heat. With their sexual energy barely contained, risky exploits followed. It was Daniel who nicknamed her Missy, short for Melissa, as he nibbled at her ear, pressing her hands against the wall in the hallway of his parents’ house with them only a room away sipping tea. ”I need to taste you, Missy,” he said, dropping her pants to the floor. “Missy” stuck after that.

When Daniel wasn’t with Missy, he spent time with Ace, and it wasn’t long before the three of them hung together. Missy thought “Ace” was a nickname too, but never asked. The truth was that you rarely asked questions of Ace. He was the abrasive sort, presenting his side, the only side, of an argument on the topic of the day. If you spoke, you hedged your bets on whether you’d offend or that your remark would be offensive enough.

Driving with him in his car in a simple jaunt across town was a death wish, his wide-set eyes on bold display. Ace weaved in and out of cars, flying down hills, speeding through busy intersections, a jolly good time. Signal lights were hit or miss; accidents with daydreaming pedestrians, near misses.

This wild side of his was held in check by a more cultured, tempered Ace, most noticeable when he worked in the kitchen. He cooked only with the finest ingredients, but he always referred to his meals as homey suppers. Missy’s mouth watered when she thought of his artichoke olive dip. When his girlfriend, Olivia, entered the picture for four solid months, his chivalrous side made an entrance as well. His Cioppino transported Olivia to an exotic Italian sea village, at least that’s what Ace reported to Daniel the next morning.

All was going swimmingly, until one evening, Olivia didn’t feel well and, apparently, never recuperated. Their relationship fell flat, and Ace deflated; his invitations to dinner all but vanished.

Wanting to return the favor, Missy invited Ace to dinner, confessing that her cooking skills could never match his. She made a strong effort with Hot and Sour Soup and Mongolian Beef, with rice noodles that exploded into threaded balls. Ace, with a beer in his hand, relaxed.

As Ace ate his soup, he got quieter with each bite. A few times he remarked that he liked the flavor and discussed his broth-making process.

“Missy just used cans,” Daniel said.

His eating slowed, and his speech diminished to one syllable words, before resting his spoon beside his bowl altogether, aghast that she did not slave over real broth.

He dismissed the main dish as well. Ace claimed that too many competing flavors assaulted his taste buds. Nothing could salvage this abysmal culinary fail.

Weeks later, Ace invited them over. He apologized for his previous behavior, and their reunion was off to the right start. The summer had just begun, and the mood was light. Ace slipped out of the kitchen, and the pantry door hung open, inviting entrance. Daniel pulled Missy into the pantry. They fumbled, adjusting to their small enclosure. Daniel buried his head in her bosom. Missy knocked over a box of cereal as she raised her arms to pull off her shirt.

“What are we doing?” Missy said.

“Who cares?” Daniel locked the door and shut off the light.

They giggled, their bodies finding each other in the darkness; her delicate hip bone and the hollow of her rib cage pressed into the grooves of lanky limbs, and they slid to the floor. He thrust into her, as a hot pan sizzled in the kitchen. Missy held back her moans of delight. They heard footsteps and froze. A jiggling of the door, a pause, and then quietly they finished.

Missy freshened up and joined Daniel and Ace at the table, a plate of steaming food placed before them. Missy took the empty chair, her face aglow. She saw Daniel’s hair feathered with flour and touched her own head to tip him off. Ace watched and snickered. He knew, and they knew that he knew. It was laughable to hide the evidence.

“This fish is the perfect flakiness,” Daniel said.

“I’m glad you approve,” Ace nodded.

“You never disappoint,” Daniel said.

“I am here to serve,” Ace said, piercing a piece of asparagus. “Your satisfaction is always of the utmost importance.”

“How generous of you.” Daniel could think of nothing else to say.

“Chez Ace. Mi casa es su casa.”

“How trilingual of you.” Daniel kicked Missy’s foot under the table.

Missy blurted out, “Oh, it’s so good, Ace. I’m famished.”

“You must have worked up quite an appetite,” Ace said, waving his fork, gesturing to random spots in the room, and finally marking the door of the pantry.

Daniel and Missy smiled, trying to gauge the reaction Ace wanted.

“A romp in the pantry,” Ace blurted out. “Nice.”

Daniel cleared his throat, “Just checking out the spices.”

“What did you think?” Ace glanced at Missy.

“Very spicy,” Daniel said, laughing.

“I can hear you,” Missy said, her face reddening.

Ace sighed. “I think it’s wonderful to express yourself. I wouldn’t want anything else for my guests.”

“It would be rude, otherwise,” Daniel played along.

“It would be rude,” Ace said. He dropped his utensils on his plate. Ace raised his glass, “A toast,” and nodded to them. “To rudeness.”

“To rudeness,” and they clinked their foamy pints.

Missy stopped chewing.

“And now I need to clean my safe haven, my shrine to the cooking gods. The pantry is like my man cave. Do you think it needs a mop?”

Daniel and Missy were mute.

“It needs to be sterilized,” Ace said matter-of-factly.

“Sterilized, because of the fizzy lifting drinks,” Daniel said.

“What would Wonka do?” Ace belted out a laugh, thumping Daniel on the back as they rose from their chairs.

Missy still chewed, as Ace glared at her every time he returned to pick up a dish to clear the table. She inhaled her last two bites and hurried her plate to the counter.

The air hung as heavy as the food in their stomachs. Daniel would have liked to duck out for the evening, instead he met Ace’s request for a tidying up of the pantry with enthusiasm. At least it was a diversion from the rude talk.

Ace hurriedly supplied cleansers, a mop and bucket, and rags. “Well, don’t just stand there.”

Daniel stumbled with the bucket and mop, slopping water all over the floor, creating a bigger mess than the invisible one before him. Ace scooted them into the pantry.

Missy panted. “I’m feeling claustrophobic.”

Ace left them, looking past them as if invisible, and locked the door behind him.

“What a psycho,” Missy whispered.

Daniel applied a quick mop; Missy made sure all the containers lined up, shifting them in nano increments.

Seconds later. “We’re done,” they yelled.

They heard the water running, Ace washing pans, running the dishwasher, talking on the phone. He played music, too. All the while, they pounded on the door.

Finally, Ace knocked on the pantry door. “One more thing,” he said. “Remove your clothes and put these on.” He cracked the door and dispensed two pieces of black cloth.

Daniel stretched it between his fingers. Panty? Thong?

“It’s a blindfold,” Missy said. “He’s a sick bastard.”

“Come out sans clothing, wearing the blindfold, and you can leave.”

Daniel convinced her to play his stupid game, and get on with their lives. It was just naked bodies.

“What if he’s a murderer,” she cried.

Daniel looked for something to jimmy the lock, and that could double as a weapon, all the while bouncing around like a jumping bean.

“I have to piss,” he said, holding on the wall.

He begged Missy to hurry, and then urinated in the corner, turning the flour golden.

They stripped. Missy folded each item of her clothing, wanting to hide them inside of her. They banged on the door again. “We’re ready. We’re naked.”

“Do you have your blindfolds on?” They didn’t. They put them on.

“Yes,” they said.

“Hand me your clothes now.”

Ace stuck his head through the door, and they shoved clothes in his face. The door slammed and was then unlocked. They walked out to the sound of Ace cracking open a beer across the room. Their audience of one.

As they walked past him, he clapped, and then put a set of keys in Daniel’s hand. Daniel clutched the keys, then hesitated, wanting to beat the living hell out of his friend, his best friend.

But Missy sobbed and that was it. They ripped their blindfolds off and rushed to the car.

Daniel drove away and hollered, “I pissed in his pantry.”

photo credit: Salt and pepper via photopin (license)

40 thoughts on “Their Last Supper

      1. Don’t know if it’s psychoanalysis, actually, but what I thought was that the couple were a perfect example of those newly in love who have no control over that love or recognition of how it impacts others. I mean, seriously, they couldn’t figure out that his pantry was special to him. 😉 No, of course not, it’s all about their hormones and their love for each other. They’re blind to everything else. And if Ace lost his girlfriend, that pantry means even more to him probably.


      2. Thanks for sharing your psychoanalysis. You’re right. If he was his best friend he should have known his pantry was so important to him and he lost his girlfriend, too. I guess it slipped his mind because sex, etc.


      3. Indeed, probably too many to count, Mark. I’m not trivializing it at all and I really value your comments. Thanks so much for weighing in. I appreciate it! It think it is a twisted story and I’m curious how people will respond. To me, there is no correct response, it’s just how you felt about it.


      4. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed the story. Twisted is good and something I find it difficult to do in my own writing. My attempt at analysis of the character’s motivations wasn’t really criticism — more just a “yeah, I can see this happening in real life” sense and, while twisted, Ace’s reaction was wonderful. This story has a lot more depth to it than just being “twisted.”


      5. Oh no, I didn’t take anything as criticism! No worries. Thanks for your all thoughts. I don’t expect just one reaction from this story. I think much of it is gray area, which I feel makes it more complex. That’s what I’m hoping at least, so thank you. I truly appreciate that you feel it has more depth. 🙂


  1. Whew. With the phone call, I thought the guy would do worse, like have people take pictures of the two leaving the room, or kidnap them, etc. Yellow flour’s the worst thing that happened…wonder how Ace will respond to that!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It could be so much worse! Actually, I have another much longer version of this story and it is quite a bit darker. He could destroy them with social media. I actually had not even thought about that. Ace might have to rebuild his pantry completely! Thanks for your comments, Adam.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I don’t think Ace wants to let his one go. It’s hard to think people are snobby about food. It should just be enjoyed and, of course, there is this thing called eating that we just have to do to survive. I had never considered that they’re worse than fashion snobs. I think I agree with you!


  2. Ew, the pantry? I have to say, I can see why Ace would be ruffled. On the other hand, his revenge on Daniel and Missy was pretty twisted. Wonder if he had his camera phone out… Good read, Amy!


    1. Well, the door was open! Ha. I think his friends crossed the line with the pantry. That’s like his sacred place. I hadn’t even thought about a camera phone. It could turn it into something uglier than it is. Thanks, Carrie. 🙂


      1. Right. Things go viral there, don’t they? Although it might be banned from YouTube. Would it? He could put pictures on Twitter and that could be bad, too.


  3. sorry – computer probs – was in the middle of saying you chose quite the setting. Will never look at my pantry the same again! Loved the twist at the end as well. Would like to see some pay back done to Ace – I’m sure you can be creative with that, lol

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ah, yes. This could be one little incident in their lives or the night could continue beyond this. Hmm…I have a much longer version and it’s darker, but I’m not sure I’m happy with it. I’ll have to do think about a pay back to Ace. Thanks for your feedback. I appreciate it, Kelly.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. With friends like Ace, Amy … Very entertaining tale, well written and the title is perfect. It has a great opening sentence: “Missy met Daniel at a park while escaping a Frisbee flung at her head.” That made me chuckle. You should consider entering it in a short story contest.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Dang, Amy, stop hiding your talents in the pantry, OK? Cooking story. Quite interesting.

    I’d be pissed at the rompers, too. Best friend or no, do your thing and your girl elsewhere, not in the sacred food sanctuary. From there you made very twist more twisted. Piss on him! I liked it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Mark! I did my best to cook up a twisted one. Glad you liked it. Food and sex don’t exactly mix in this circumstance although I’m sure they can in others. 🙂


  6. I think that was genuinely messed up, in the best way possible Amy. I love the food references, could taste them, and the saltiness of the encounters… I think they heightened the weirdness of the ending (which I much appreciated of course). Had no idea what was going to happen! I don’t know why, but the turning flour golden bit was just visually intense and a perfect detail.

    Lots of tension and glorious detail – I think this is one of the best I’ve read from you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Trent. Your comments mean so much to me. I’m thrilled I could surprise you. Turning the flour golden is sure to piss off Ace. That might have been the worst thing he could do to him. Thanks for all the high praise, truly. It makes me want to turn cartwheels. 🙂


  7. Funny, I just finished a book, set it on the table, walked to the computer and sat down to read this. Two of the main characters were Daniel and Ace in the book. So, as the creepy crawlies ran up and down my spine I read your story. It was delicious! Kitchens and pantries, anything that involves preparing food, should always be considered off limits for amorous behaviour. It’s just wrong. I think the young couple got off relatively easy. Of course I wouldn’t want to be around when Ace finds that yellow flour.


    1. Whoa, are you kidding me? When I read that you just finished a book with my two character’s names, I was shaking in my boots. That’s crazy. From time to time, this sort of thing happens to me. I must have tapped into some collective consciousness or something. How eerie, Michelle. I’m glad you enjoyed my story.

      Liked by 1 person

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