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Documenting Dinner: Observations in the Wild

Submission for “Nothing But Voices” Competition

By Jesse LeePublished 13 days ago 7 min read

“Pass the rolls.”

“In their natural habitat, the Midwestern Dinner Table, the rolls migrate clockwise, guided by instinct and mild obligation.”

“Can you not.”

“A rare request for silence. Notice how it fails immediately.”

“Who invited you again?”

“You did. You said, ‘Come over for dinner.’ A classic trap.”

“Please stop narrating.”

“The matriarch attempts to establish boundaries, a behavior observed most often right before those boundaries are trampled.”

“Mom, what is he doing?”

“Apparently making our dinner into… whatever this is.”

“This is a documentary.”

“No. This is meatloaf.”

“A dense loaf of seasoned ground meat, shaped by tradition and quiet regret.”

“Okay, seriously.”

“The father figure asserts dominance by describing the meal as ‘meatloaf,’ implying ownership over the narrative.”

“I made it. It’s my meatloaf.”

“A territorial claim.”

“Are you recording?”

“Only mentally. The camera is inside my soul.”

“Gross.”

“A strong reaction. The adolescent offspring detects cringe and deploys it defensively.”

“I’m 23.”

“The juvenile insists on adulthood, a common misconception.”

“I will take your fork and stab you with it.”

“Threat display. Fascinating.”

“Nothing about this is ‘fascinating.’”

“The family attempts to extinguish the narrator, but the narrator is fueled by discomfort.”

“Can you just eat like a normal person?”

“I am eating.”

“You’re holding your fork like it’s a microphone.”

“It is a microphone.”

“It’s a fork.”

“Today, it is both. Dual-purpose tools are common among adaptive species.”

“Dad, tell him to stop.”

“He is beyond help.”

“The father refuses leadership, forcing the matriarch to bear the emotional labor.”

“Shut up about the matriarch.”

“The matriarch denies her title, though she radiates matriarchal energy.”

“Do not.”

“I’m gonna need you to stop narrating our energy.”

“The daughter attempts to conceal her aura, unaware it is visible under fluorescent kitchen lighting.”

“That’s it. No more wine for you.”

“A bold conservation effort. Alcohol restriction is often used when other tactics have failed.”

“I’ve had one glass.”

“A false claim of moderation. The subject believes this will earn sympathy.”

“Don’t make me the subject.”

“The subject has become aware of the documentary’s gaze. This may cause agitation.”

“I’m already agitated.”

“This is going well.”

“How is this going well?”

“Conflict. Story. Ratings.”

“Who is rating this?”

“History.”

“History does not care about meatloaf night.”

“History cares deeply about meatloaf night. It is a key event in the colapse of joy in society.”

“Okay, that one was kind of funny.”

“A rare laugh escapes, betraying allegiance.”

“Don’t encourage him.”

“The family divides. One member finds humor in the parasite.”

“Who are you calling a parasite.”

“The documentarian attempts to deny their ecological role.”

“I’m your brother.”

“A bold claim. Genetic ties do not prevent parasitism.”

“Mom, why is he like this.”

“Because he read one book and now thinks he’s David Attenborough.”

“I’ve read three books.”

“The subject inflates their intellectual plumage to appear more attractive to potential mates.”

“Ew.”

“Very ew.”

“Mom, make him stop talking about mating.”

“The pack unites in denying their need for reproduction.’”

“Can we just eat.”

“Yes. Everyone eat. Quietly. Normal.”

“Observe the brief, fragile truce. It will not last.”

“JUST. EAT.”

“Chewing begins. The room fills with the sound of denial.”

“Stop talking like that, you’re just being weird.”

“I’m whispering.”

“You’re whispering like a haunted librarian.”

“A chilling comparison. The daughter has claws.”

“I’m gonna say grace.”

“You’re an atheist.”

“I’m agnostic.”

“I didn’t have enough information to know that.”

“Dear God, thanks for this food, and also please take away his mouth.”

“A prayer for silence, offered with sincerity and a side of disfigurement.”

“Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Amen, but like, extra.”

“A chorus of amens. The ritual is complete. The documentary continues.”

“Can you pass the salt?”

“Ah. A pivotal request. Watch closely.”

“Just pass it.”

“The subject requests sodium, perhaps low on electrolytes. It seeks that in which it is deficient to survive.”

“Please.”

“The salt shaker approaches the father’s hand. He accepts it without gratitude. This is dominance.”

“Say please.”

“I said please.”

“The matriarch demands courtesy, attempting to reassert social order.”

“Thank you.”

“The father complies, albeit late, to avoid escalation.”

“Is this what you do all day.”

“Mostly. I also talk to squirrels.”

“Great.”

“The family learns the narrator has hobbies. The family regrets learning.”

“Are you going to narrate me chewing.”

“A cry for attention masked as protest.”

“I hate it here.”

“The daughter announces a desire to flee, but remains seated, drawn by the gravitational pull of free food and acceptance.”

“So, how’s work.”

“A classic diversion. The father attempts to change the subject, not realizing the narrator feeds on subjects.”

“Work is… work.”

“A vague response. The subject fears specifics.”

“I’m doing fine.”

“The subject insists on ‘fine,’ a word that in the wild often means ‘not fine.’”

“I’m fine.”

“The father echoes ‘fine,’ strengthening the illusion.”

“Stop making it sound like we’re dying.”

“In many ways, you are. Slowly.”

“Okay, Goth Attenborough.”

“A nickname emerges. This is bonding.”

“Don’t bond with him.”

“The matriarch senses the enemy being absorbed into the family ecosystem.”

“Too late.”

“You’re literally narrating your own downfall.”

“More threats of aggression.”

“Can we talk about something else. Like the holidays.”

“Holidays. A seasonal ritual where humans exchange objects to avoid discussing emotions while conveniently ignoring its origins in subjugation and pagan roots.”

“That’s… accurate.”

“A sharp observation. The daughter is impressed against her will.”

“I’m not impressed.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I am not smiling.”

“The daughter denies the smile, but the smile has already been documented.”

“Stop documenting my face.”

“Your face is a landscape. Rugged. Untamed.”

“Rugged?!”

“Untamed.”

“Stop talking about my face like you’re describing a mountain.”

“Sometimes a face is a mountain.”

“Ugh! Sometimes you’re unbearable.”

“The matriarch delivers a direct strike. Notice how the narrator appears energized.”

“Can you narrate Dad doing dishes after.”

“The daughter proposes a challenge, hoping to redirect the narrator’s focus toward labor.”

“I will not do dishes.”

“Dominance.”

“Dad, please.”

“Pack pressure.”

“I made the meatloaf.”

“A weak defense.”

“It’s not weak. It’s meat.”

“The father grows defensive, a sign of impending emotional revelation. It will not come.”

“I’ll do the dishes.”

“A surprising gesture. The narrator makes a peace offering.”

“Is that… character development.”

“Yes.”

“It won’t stick.”

“It never sticks.”

“Observe the skepticism. The family has seen this species promise growth before.”

“Stop calling us species.”

“You are species. Homo annoyed-us.”

“Okay, that was bad.”

“A failed joke. The narrator takes a risk and misses.”

“Thank you for acknowledging it.”

“Self-awareness appears. Rare. Beautiful.”

“Don’t compliment yourself.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“The siblings engage in a classic dominance duel: ‘No I wasn’t.’ ‘Yes you were.’”

“Stop.”

“The matriarch attempts to restore peace using a single syllable. It works for three seconds.”

“Mom, what if we just let him do it. Like, as a bit.”

“A dangerous suggestion. The family experiments with tolerating the parasite.”

“I am not a parasite.”

“Then why do I feel itchy.”

“Because you’re allergic to authenticity.”

“What does that mean.”

“It means you’re insecure.”

“Wow. The accuracy.”

“An emotional wound is inflicted. The dinner table falls silent.”

“Notice the sudden stillness. The herd becomes alert. A predator has struck.”

“You are the predator.”

“Am I.”

“Yes.”

“I’m the prey.”

“No.”

“I’m the filmmaker.”

“No one asked for this film.”

“Every great film begins with no one asking.”

“We’re not Sundance.”

“We’re more like… the surveillance footage no one watches.”

“Stop.”

“Okay. I will stop.”

“You will?”

“Yes.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“The narrator agrees to silence, a behavior known as ‘lying.’”

“Hey.”

“What.”

“You’re narrating.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Both parties repeat themselves. This ritual can continue indefinitely.”

“Okay, new rule. If you narrate, you lose dessert.”

“The matriarch introduces a consequence. Will it work? The audience leans in.”

“What’s dessert.”

“Brownies.”

“Homemade.”

“Fudgy.”

“A high-value reward appears. The narrator experiences fear.”

“Good. Silence.”

“Silence.”

“Silence.”

“Silence.”

“Silence.”

“Wow. It’s actually working.”

“The daughter jinxes it.”

“Shh.”

“Observe the table. Calm. Order. Chewing. A fragile peace sustained by sugar and threats.”

“No.”

“Dammit.”

“He did it.”

“That was one sentence.”

“That was four sentences.”

“Dessert is gone.”

“No, please.”

“The narrator pleads, showing his soft belly in submission.”

“You can still have dessert if you do the dishes.”

“A bargain. This is the social construct that leads to civilization.”

“I accept.”

“Good.”

“Wait, all the dishes?”

“Yes.”

“Even the casserole dish.”

“Yes.”

“Even the grease pan.”

“Yes.”

“The narrator realizes the cost of brownies. The ecosystem exacts payment.”

“I’m starting a new documentary.”

“No.”

“Working title: ‘Man Versus Grease.’”

“No.”

“Please don’t.”

“I will narrate the grease.”

“If you narrate the grease, I will throw you into the grease.”

“A threat display. We are back.”

“Can I at least narrate quietly while I wash.”

“No.”

“Not even in my head.”

“In your head is fine.”

“Thank you.”

“The narrator retreats inward, where the documentary continues without witnesses.”

“Okay, everyone, normal conversation. No wildlife.”

“So… Mom, how’s your book club.”

“It’s fine.”

“A familiar word appears. The cycle continues.”

“Don’t.”

“Sorry.”

“Dad, how’s your back.”

“It’s fine.”

“Stop saying fine.”

“It’s fine.”

“Stop.”

“It’s fine.”

“Stop.”

“It’s fine.”

“The family spirals into ‘fine.’ This is their true documentary.”

“I hate you all.”

“Love you too.”

“Pass the brownies.”

“Brownies are served. The meal reaches its climax. Nobody grows. Everybody eats.”

“…I didn’t narrate that.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

“Did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

“The credits roll, but the argument continues.”

“You’re adopted.”

familyHolidayHumorSatireShort StoryYoung Adult

About the Creator

Jesse Lee

Poems and essays about faith, failure, love, and whatever’s still twitching after the dust settles. Dark humor, emotional shrapnel, occasional clarity, always painfully honest.

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  • David E. Perry13 days ago

    This was great. I loved it. It made me laugh. Still laughing.

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