CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

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by

Marianne Carlson

“Something’s happening here

What it is is not very clear.”

For What It’s Worth

The crowd outside Annabelle's grew larger, so large that only those in front could see the sign. CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

"Closed? What the fuck? Annabelle's never closes."

"Why is it closed?

 What time will they open?

 I want my blue cheese burger."

The crowd grew dense and angry. You would think it was a national tragedy, the closing of the local hangout, and for some it was - a tragedy of epic proportions,  for it was at Annabelle's that connections were made, money  passed hands,  baggies were slipped into knapsacks.

Three cop cars pulled up, bam, bam, bam, blue lights blinking ominously, those blue lights you hate to see behind you when you have had one too many after a long night of drinking.

"All right, move aside, time to go home," the first cop said as she made her way through the crowd. She was short, bulbous and abrupt, and she made no secret that she was packing, she was  one of those no nonsense cops with a demeanor indicating that she has seen it all and was not about to take any crap from anyone.  You couldn't read her eyes because  they were hidden behind a facade of studied neutrality. We will call her Cop #1,  she seemed to be in charge. The other two cops #2 and #3 stayed behind, securing the perimeter. No easy task, securing the perimeter, which by now had become a rowdy bunch of approximately 150 rebellious ruffians.

"What's up? When are they opening?" Agitated beyond belief, a scruffy young woman with a shock of reddish hair asked no one in particular. She would have been pretty, (she had that half stoned, half angry look of an Egon Schiele painting)  but for her teeth.  Clearly a meth head, the empty spaces where teeth should have been told it all.

"Something happened in the kitchen. Something bad."

"What."

"I dunno."

"Ask  the cop."

"That bitch. She won't tell us nothin. I hate cops. I especially hate female cops."

"You got something against female authority figures?" The scruffy Egon Schiele model suddenly rose to the occasion, fuming.  Her ire was catching. The crowd seemed to take a cue from her, turning their rage up a notch. "What a field day for the heat, 1,000 people in the street."  As the bad behavior escalated, Cop #2 and Cop #3 stretched crime tape across the front door of Annabelle's, and gradually managed to push the mob back until the street was clear. If lookie loos wanted to stay, they must stay across the street behind the crime tape.

Clearly Annabelle's would not be opening soon. The three cops, looking grim, spoke briefly to each other in front of the tape blocking the door. More flashing blue lights, this time with sirens announcing the arrival of an ambulance and three more cop cars.

"God I hate fuzz."

"What the hell happened?"

"I gotta get in there man, I gotta meet somebody."

"I bet you do, ain't nobody as pretty as the face of your dealer when the thrill is gone."

"Shut up, just shut the fuck up."

What passed for conversation turned ugly as the door opened and two technicians carried a body bag on a stretcher out to a waiting ambulance.

"OMG somebody died in there."

"Some bodies is more like it."

When it was all over four bodies ended up in the morgue that night. An irate sous chef killed the chef, two servers and the manager, all with a butcher knife. No one knew, or would admit to knowing, what started the altercation. What we do know is that meth dealers all over town were forced to operate elsewhere, which they did in short order.

And what of our Egon Schiele model? She decided to clean up her act. After a month in rehab she returned to school and is now a dental technician. Her boss, the dentist, fixed her teeth for free.  Her smile is radiant, she appears in all the local ads for Smiles by Design. She married the dentist.

It's All Temporary