Part 1

After the visit from Mr. Sinclair and his associates, you would think that that would have been one of the most horrible things that ever happened to me. Well, it was, up until a few weeks after their visit. I had just gotten acquainted with my new manager, Harold when he showed up one day unannounced.

Now after what had happened to the golf course and most of the lobby, Antonio Garibaldi had been banned from St. Mihel. To the point that there was even a sign on the door of the lobby that explicitly said that he was not allowed on the premises. And I was more than happy to abide by that rule after all the carnage that he had caused me. Though honestly, I was at least thankful that he had gotten rid of my last manager. Harold was a much nicer person overall. Though I would be lying if I said that I didn’t mix their names up several times over.

But to get back on track, it was only a few days ago that he showed up at St. Mihel again. It was just becoming fall and the leaves were piling up to near unmanageable levels. So of course I was designated to rake them off of the parking lot. I was sweeping the leaves out of Sinclair’s personal spot when a sudden feeling of dread came over me. It was like an overwhelming crushing feeling that caused me to drop my rake.

“Teddy!” Came the slightly accented voice of Garibaldi as he quickly threw his arm around me and pulled me away from my fallen rake. “Just the man that I was looking for! Say, you wouldn’t mind if I treated you to a nice day out, would ya?” He wrapped his arm around my neck and gave it a hard squeeze, enough to almost cause me to choke out and pound on his arm.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” I said through choking and increasingly shallow breaths. “Y-you’re not allowed on the premises anymore!” I was starting to full-blown panic when finally he released me and allowed me to breathe fully. As I coughed and did my best to catch my breath, I looked over at Garibaldi and was taken aback by just how different he looked out of the tail-suit that I had seen him in originally. His long flowing white and black hair was still prominently on display, but he now wore the outfit of a ringleader of a circus. This was really the first time I could lay close eyes on him and I noticed just how colorful and otherworldly his eyes were. It was like every color of the rainbow was located in his eyes.

“Oh? Is that so? Is Constantine still mad at me for throwing just one measly hissy fit? It’s his fault you know. Instead of that stupid lame golf game, he should have had a mini golf course instead.” He sighed, looking at me for a moment before smiling at me. “Oh come on now, Teddy. Just one measly visit from me won’t be the end of the world. Besides, I won’t tell him if you don’t.” He smiled at me and I stared at him, my eyes drifting over to the scar across his face. Remembering what lay beneath it I weighed my options. Either I was fired or I was eaten. I’m sure you can figure out which path I chose.

“What would you like to do, sir?” I asked him, resigning myself to whatever insane thing he would most likely command me to do. He clapped happily and came over, throwing his arm around me and dragging me towards the entrance of St. Mihel.

“We have so many options! Not that silly golf of course. Wouldn’t want a repeat of that situation again!” He laughed aloud as he pulled me along toward the entrance. I noticed that Harold was at the entrance to St. Mihel and we locked eyes with each other for a moment. It looked like he was about to tell me not to let Garibaldi in, but all it took was a brief glance at me to prove that it wasn’t worth trying to stop him. The colorful ringleader burst into the lobby of St. Mihel with me still wrapped around his arm.

“W-well sir, you expressed interest in the kitchen during your last visit.” I didn’t know much about Antonio Garibaldi. Then again I didn’t know much about any of Sinclair’s associates, but I at least knew that Garibaldi enjoyed eating people. So maybe he just enjoyed eating? Look I was thinking on my feet here and I’m not exactly the best critical thinker.

“That’s a great idea!” He enthusiastically shouted and began dragging me towards the dining room. It took a few tries to get him to let go of me, but at long last, he finally released me and allowed me to lead him to the dining room. We entered the sparsely populated dining room and I led him to the VIP section. Setting the table and also getting him a menu, I realized that I had just been demoted to a waiter.

“Oh knock that shit off, Teddy. Go ahead and sit down. I know you’re not a fucking waiter.” Garibaldi told me. I stared at him for a moment before sitting across from him. I awkwardly placed a napkin across my lap and stared at him for a moment before avoiding eye contact with him. After what felt like an eternity, one of the waitresses finally came over to take our orders.

“Would you gentlemen like to start with an appetizer? Perhaps some wine?” she asked us, looking over at me with an aura of jealousy and anger. Makes sense since I was basically an errand boy eating at a five-star restaurant.

“Where’s the special menu?” Antonio asked as he swiped the bottle of wine from her and began to chug it straight from the bottle. I watched him as he guzzled down an extremely expensive bottle of wine like it was juice. Which I guess it kinda is.

“This is the special menu, sir.” Our waitress told him, getting a laugh from Antonio once he finally finished the wine bottle.

“No, it isn’t, sweetie. Maybe this will remind you.” He reached into his ringleader jacket and pulled out a card. I couldn’t quite make out what it said, but when the waitress took the card out and examined it, her face turned pale. She looked back at Antonio before she nodded and quickly scrambled away back toward the kitchen. That got a huge cackle out of him as he pounded the table and laughed like a damn lunatic. “That’s always fucking funny!” He laughed, so hard that his scar opened up just a little bit to show his row of teeth hidden in there.

I awkwardly sat across from him as he lost his mind with how funny he had found it. When he, at last, calmed down he looked over at me and smiled at me. I avoided his eyes again and that was enough to giggle at me some more. Soon one of the chefs came out to us and handed us menus that I had never seen before. Our menus are pretty fancy since they are bound in leather and written in gold lettering. But these ones were something out of a rich person’s dream. Bound in velvet and written in gold and silver.

“W-we weren’t expecting you to come here, sir.” The chef told Garibaldi as the ringleader thumbed through the menu. I looked through it and found that a lot of these items were simply one-worded and offered no description as to what the item on the menu was.

“I just felt like stopping by,” he said with a smile on his face. Flipping through his menu before coming to a page that caught his eye. A much bigger smile spread across his face and he began to stare at the menu. “This, I want this one.” He pointed at the menu and tapped at it rapidly. Just like a child wanting to order but pointing at the menu like it had a picture on it.

The chef looked down at the menu and now even his face went pale. “S-sir. A-are you sure? T-that dish is, incredibly hard on our staff.” The chef clearly didn’t want to cook this for him. But Garibaldi grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down to his level.

“Serve me, the orphan!” he shouted at him. I dropped my menu upon hearing that. I looked down at the menu when it fell and grabbed it again, flipping through it until finding the page that did indeed contain the phrase, ‘Orphan’. A part of me was hoping that it was just a strange name for a dish, but by the chef’s reaction, I had my doubts.

“R-right away, sir.” The chef told Garibaldi, who let go of his collar and gave him a hard pat on the back. The chef looked over at me with a mixture of fear and disgust. Almost as if he thought that I was going to order an orphan. I most certainly did not want that.

“J-just a burger, please,” I told the chef, to which he nodded and walked away quickly. Garibaldi tsked at me like he was disappointed in my selection. “S-so. Uhm, sir, are you in the circus?” I asked him, trying to make small talk and try to put the idea of what he ordered as far away from my mind as possible.

“Indeed I am! Been in the business for a very long time,” he said with a smile as if remembering back on his glory days. “You should visit sometime, Teddy! I’ll give you the best seats in the house, and your own personal show! I’m sure my troop would love to have you,” he said like an excited and giddy child. It was a tempting offer, my never having been to the circus was certainly a big motivator.

“I might have to take you up on that,” I said with a laugh and he giddily nodded along. The same waitress came back over with a pitcher of water and another bottle of wine, which Garibaldi this time didn’t guzzle straight down like he had last time. I wasn’t much of a wine drinker so I was fine with just the water.

“So Teddy, how’s the old man been treating you?” Garibaldi asked as he devoured the bread rolls that were brought to us by the waitress after our drinks. At first, I was thinking he was talking about my dad until I figured he must be talking about Sinclair.

“Mr. Sinclair hasn’t been back since you were all here together,” I told him, picking at the solitary bread roll I had managed to take from the basket before the ringleader had eaten them all.

“Can’t blame him. His father built this place, and those two did not have the best relationship. Or so I’ve been told. Never met his father, so I can’t really judge,” he said, going back for the bread only to find nothing left for him. I offered him mine and it looked like he wanted to kiss me with how happy he looked.

“Can I ask, sir?” Garibaldi looked up from his bread roll with a confused noise. “What is it that you guys do? Like, how do you all know each other?” I asked him, wanting to know how that strange mixture of creatures had all gotten to know each other.

“Oh, now that’s a story. Well, it was about 1931 when-” All of a sudden there was a scream from back in the kitchen. We both looked back over towards the kitchen as we watched one of the sous chefs run out of the kitchen screaming bloody murder. “Oh boy! Dinner and a show!” Garibaldi cackled happily as a group of other chefs ran after their co-worker.

“You can’t make me! This is fucking disgusting!” He screamed as he was tackled to the floor next to our table. Garibaldi was laughing hysterically and banging on the table as they wrestled the emotional man to the floor. Leaning over our table and looking down at them on the floor Garibaldi smiled down at them.

“Gentlemen, I would like my meal. Sooner rather than later. After all, either you give me my meal, or you become my meal.” His scar split open and his row of teeth and tongue went on full display with a growl and screech. The group of men stood up and ran back toward the kitchen. “Hopefully that’ll light a fire under their ass,” he said with another giggle. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I realized just how screwed I was in this situation. I was really regretting that I didn’t call in sick today.

We were silent for a bit longer, me no longer feeling like bringing up the subject of Sinclair and his other associates. Garibaldi began drumming his fingers on the table in a rhythm. I watched his fingers and noticed a ring across his finger. A wedding ring.

“Are you married, sir?” I asked him, and that stopped his drumming mid-rhythm. I looked over at him and he was staring at me with a mixture of shock and confusion. It was like a deer caught in headlights and it was like he had to reboot his brain.

“I…was.” He pulled his hands back from the table and hid them down in his lap and now he was the one avoiding eye contact with me. “A long time ago.” He let the conversation die there and I didn’t feel like pressing any further. It clearly wasn’t worth it, and I would much rather not have him lash out at me the way he lashed out at golf.

Our awkward silence was at last broken by the arrival of the food we had ordered. I got mine first, a simple cheeseburger. Garibaldi meanwhile had a huge assortment of plates brought over to him. A big stewpot, a rack of ribs, some cuts of meat, and even a bottle of what I thought was wine.

“Enjoy your meal.” The soulless waitress told us. The chefs looked like they had gone through hell to make this meal. Upon seeing everything laid out before him, any trace of that sad forlorn look vanished from Garibaldi’s face as he looked at everything laid out before him.

“You bet your ass I will!” His childlike glee returned with gusto and he began to dig into every little dish all at once. He was the messiest eater I have ever seen. No utensils were used other than his bare hands and he reveled in every single dish. He dug into the ribs with a loud sickening crunch as he bit right into the bones and the meat together.

I looked back down at my burger and contemplated setting it back down and just not eating it. But I was hungry, and the burger was right there. So I took a bite out of it while doing my best to avoid watching Garibaldi tear into his food like a man possessed.

He opened up the pot lid and his eyes went wide with excitement at whatever it was that was staring back at him from the pot. For this one, he did use a utensil, a ladle that you would normally scoop the stew into a bowl with. Well, Garibaldi was scooping the stew right into his mouth. I watched him as I chewed the same bite over and over a million times. My burger was burnt more than a charred log, and I finally elected not to eat it after all, setting it back on the plate and pushing it away.

“What’s the matter, Teddy?” he asked me as he pulled away from the pot, a long piece of intestine in his mouth that he slurped up like a spaghetti noodle, causing me to gag silently and look away from him.

“M-my burger is too overdone,” I told him, to which he tsked angrily and looked back over at the waitress. He blew a loud whistle over to her and demanded her attention. She quickly abandoned the table that she was attending and ran over to us.

“W-what’s the matter, sir?” she asked, clearly terrified. Garibaldi pointed her attention over to me and then down to the burger that I had taken one measly bite out of.

“You overcooked that. Take it back and do it right. Just because he works here, doesn’t mean you and those chefs can shit on my guest’s food.” He told her, shooing her away with his dirty hands and returning to his meal with excited glee after she had run off back to the kitchen with my burnt burger.

All the stress that this was causing me was tugging on my nicotine addiction and I desperately wanted a cigarette to alleviate my symptoms. My eyes fell on the bottle of wine and I reached out to see if maybe that would calm me down, but Garibaldi quickly reached out and swiped it from me before I could grasp it.

“Sorry, Teddy. I don’t think you’d enjoy this. It isn’t what you think it is,” he said with a smile as he uncorked the bottle and brought it to his lips. I watched as instead of wine, a thick red liquid began to spill out from the bottle. And the unmistakable smell of iron hit my nostrils and I sat back and did my best to keep my stomach from barfing back everything that I had eaten.

The waitress eventually brought back my burger, but I had no appetite to speak of. The implications of what Garibaldi was eating in front of me had completely ruined any thoughts of eating. But to keep up appearances I did my best to try and nibble on the burger, while Garibaldi completely slaughtered his meal and wiped his stained hands and mouth using the white tablecloth.

“What an amazing meal! And no Constantine to annoy me with stupid things like ‘table manners’.” He scoffed as he shoved his empty plates and the stew pot away from him. After all was said and done, I had managed to scarf down a little over half of my burger, and I never wanted to look at another burger ever again after all this.

Suddenly Harold appeared in the dining room with a landline phone. He was sprinting toward our table and he handed the receiver over to Garibaldi. “P-phone call for you, sir.” The ringleader groaned and snatched the phone from him and held it up to his ear.

“Ciao?” he asked into the receiver. His brow furrowed when he heard the voice on the other end. “Benny? How did you get this number? What do you mean the twins set the tent on fire? Oh for fucks sake.” He groaned, standing up and reaching into his pocket to grab a wad of cash. Throwing it at Harold he snapped at me and ordered me to pick up the phone’s base and follow him. “Make sure no one else does anything stupid before I get there! Yes? Good, arrivederci.” He growled handing me the phone and snarling.

“S-some circus issues, sir?” I asked him, fumbling with the phone before finally managing to hang it up for him.

“You don’t know the fucking half of it.” He looked back at me and I could tell by his annoyed and angry expression that something horrible was going to happen when he got back to his circus troop. “Thanks for a good time, Teddy. Sorry, this was all we got to do.” He sighed, walking over and hugging me before kissing both of my cheeks and tussling my hair. “Addio dolcezza!” He told me as he ran off to who knew where.

I sighed as I placed the phone on some random table and walked back to my own. I looked over at the spot where Garibaldi had been sitting and looked over at the pot. My curiosity got the better of me, and I approached it. Opening the pot I took a look inside and immediately threw up into it when I did.

“Ted? You okay, man?” Harold asked as I backed away from the pot and coughed. I shook my head violently and looked back at him.

“I quit man. I’m handing in my two fucking weeks.” I told him as I walked away from him and his vain attempts to try and convince me otherwise. The thing in that pot is not worth discussing, but just know that I’m fucking done working here. As long as nothing horrible happens to me in these next two weeks, I’m fucking gone.