"Shortstack Lightning, I know you're in here. Let me see you're flapjack swallowing puss. You know I can eat you under the table any day of the week and I aim to prove it. And I'm gonna put my money where my mouth is. Are you willing?"
Shortstack groaned a little inside. He had nothing to prove and held no grudge against any man.
"Here I am, Flapjack Dan," spoke up Shortstack. "Now just calm down, come on over and let's eat a meal all civilized like. No need to fight and fuss. Don't need to be making no aggravation. A good hotcake sits better in the stomach with a nice easy feeling rather than an angry wanting frustrated like feeling. So have a seat. There's a chair right here." And Shortstack slapped his hand down on the seat next to him.
"Aha. I knew you was yellow," roared Flapjack Dan. "I'm gonna make some money no matter what 'cause I all ready got fifty big ones riding that says you won't even take me on."
"Now Dan, I'm not a betting man. I'd thought you'd known that. It ain't right to be wasting money in that way. I hear tell you got a wife and three little daughters to feed."
"Don't preach me no sermons. I could hear on Sundays if I was to go splinter up my rear end on those hard boards." Dan let out a gravely throated guffaw and spat.
"Now Dan this is a restaurant you're standing in and you ought not to be splaying that tobaccy juice around the floor. It's not healthy and I wouldn't want Daisy Mae to get into any trouble with the board of health. She runs a clean restaurant. Everyone knows it. And don't be talking so coarse, there's women present."
Daisy Mae moved the rag mop quickly over the spot where Flapjack Dan's unappetizing secretement lay, returning the floor to it's usual polish. A deep sigh caused her bosom to tremble. When would this foolishness end. When would the family be able to live in peace again. She was proud of Shortstack but there was a limit to what a woman could take. If this was to be the result of his achievement maybe it would have been better if he had just been regular, like any other man. She rejected the thought quickly. How can you ask a bird to stop singing or the sun to stop shining. Besides, it was too late, money had already started changing hands, and she could see that hard look of resolve in Shortstack's eyes. You just can't stand in the way of greatness.
"Bwa-ha", bellowed Flapjack Dan, "hiding behind the skirts of a woman. Shortstack Lightning, I thought you was more man than that. I got my hundred dollars right here in my big hand. Crisp new bills I aim to keep anyhow after adding a hundred dollars worth of old scrawny worn out Shortstack Lightning bills that belonged to you yesterday. After tonight they'll be mine". And with that Dan held up his wad of fives and tens over his head, for all to see, brought them down and kissed them with a big smackeroo.
"Now Dan, like I said before I'm not a betting man. It's just not right for me to be taking food out of your babys' mouths. You need that hundred dollars. And buy your nice wife a new dress if you think you got money to just throw in the gutter. I won't be taking it from you, but I'm not your banker. I'm just recommending for you what's best for your family, I'm sure. Now, come over and have a seat and we can have a nice meal together in this swell establishment Daisy Mae runs here. You know its the best food in the whole state, no question 'bout that. So's howsabout it Danny boy? The pipes are calling. Come on over and have a seat. If'n you don't calm down you know your stomach's gonna be upset."
"Lightning, you ain't nothing but a two bit muffin muncher. I doubt you'd know a good hotcake if the sun came up in the morning and shined on the plate. I thought you was a pancake eating man but now I'm not so sure seeing as that you're a chicken to match me. "
"You know Dan that ain't it one way or the other. I go nothing against you. I don't know why you need to try and make something out of something that just ain't there. I like to eat a good cake, you like to eat a good cake. Daisy Mae has the best cook in the world in that hot kitchen right now waiting to make you a nice plate of buckwheat right this instant. Forget all your high falluting fighting words and have a meal. It's gonna taste good I tell ya. You know that well as I do."
"Huh. I see no reason to be eating here if you're just gonna chicken out on me. I thought I'd be having some fun this afternoon, but maybe I'll just mosey on down to McGillicuddy's card room and spend a nice leisurely afternoon there." With that Flapjack Dan folded his bills over once, slipped them in his clip, pocketed the lot and made like he was heading to the door. Just as he was about to open the door and leave, he turned his head back and looked down at the floor one time, then held his head up and spoke out in the loudest voice he'd used in the whole encounter. His eyes looked toward Shortstack but his gaze went over his head into an empty spot.
"I always thought your Mama Claribelle gave birth to a real pancake eating man. But I guess I was wrong. Even your Mama couldn't do that right. She ain't what folks made her out to be I guess."
And then there was silence. Everybody in the diner began to move their eyes around the floor or to the wall or somewhere. But in the corner of each eye was Shortstack sitting at the counter, not moving for what seemed like forever, still as a statue. You could tell from his eyes that he was somewhere else for a time. It wasn't in reality but for a second. Shortstack jerked up his head, chin held high, then cocked his head toward the kitchen. A slow grin came to his face and it turned into a big toothy smile. Friendliest smile anyone ever saw in one's life was a Shortstack Lightning smile. Made people feel good and happy and smile themselves. Everyone said Shortstack Lightning's smile could melt butter in the ice box.
"Ted," spoke out Shortstack, addressing Ol' Ted the maintenance man who was back in the kitchen, "Ted, get on the phone to the western union men. You better send a telegram to the farmers in Vermont. Tell 'em they better plant some more maple trees up there 'cause when I'm finished there won't be no more maple trees with any sap left in 'em in the whole state of Vermont. Maybe even in all of New England."
"Will do," yelled out Ol' Ted from the back. And with that a great roar arose from the patrons in the diner.
"Now you're talking," bellowed Flapjack Dan as he hurried to take a seat.
"Daisy Mae, fire up that griddle and keep 'em coming," shouted Shortstack. "And Dan, one thing. I won't take your money, but if you win I'll pony up 200 dollars for you."
Bags of bisquick were broke and that griddle hadn't seen so many pancakes cooked on it since the US infantry came in when there was trouble with the train. Daisy Mae brought out tall stack after tall stack. Vats of maple syrup were cracked open and emptied. Butter was flying in all directions and munching and slurping was coming and going and swallowing was taking place fast as the syrup was poring and butter melting. Plate after plate of steaming hot cakes. Plain and buttermilk, blueberry and buckwheat. Oatmeal pancakes, whole wheat and even wheatberry. And fast as Daisy Mae carried them out, steam rising into ringlets illumined by the afternoon sun that was warming the west side of the diner, the pancakes disappeared into the mouths of the two men. Second to second minute to minute hour to hour the two boys went at it. Scarfing 'em down and asking for more. Stacks and stacks, ten twenty thirty high and still down they went into the gullet.
"Dee-liscious," Shortstack would expound after finishing each plate, but Dan would only grunt. And as the sun made its' way down to the place in the sky where everyday Daisy Mae had the blinds closed so as not to shine in the patron's eyes, Flapjack Dan lay down on the floor, not saying a word, but groaning softly to himself.
"Why Shortstack," Daisy Mae was saying to him in their post-meal conversation, "I don't know where you put all that food. I never saw such a skinny man eat so much food, I do say."
"Well Daisy Mae, I do hear it's what they call metabolism. 'parrently the good Lord gave me a mighty fine one. I got to give him thanks for a might number of things, least of which I must say is my friendship with you."
"Well I'm grateful to know you Shortstack Lightning. Grateful," said she as she patted his arm.
Down below Dan groaned a bit more. A malodorous air wafted throughout the diner.
"Now Dan," Shortstack spoke out, "if you're going to make smells like that we might ask that you respectfully step outside.
Just then the door burst open. It was Pancake Jack.
"Shortstack Lightning," the words bellowed forth from his mighty frame, "I got a bone to pick with you."
"Well," said Shortstack to Daisy Mae, "looks like it's getting on time for supper. Fire up that grill. Looks like we got some eating to do."
To reach Tim Gallaher, writer Email to gallaher@mcint.com