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There is No Letter Z in this Story

Written by: BenSobieck

HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA, USA
August 31, AFTER

The Waffle House quiets as the scribe opens the door and steps inside. Heads turn and lights flicker, and the 24/7 restaurant finally pauses. Someone whispers something to someone else, but there's no reply. Even the music in the overhead speakers takes a breather between songs.

A hostess breaks the silence, breezing by the scribe to say, "Pick a seat."

The scribe takes a seat at the counter and pretends to look over the Waffle House menu. He knows what he'll order. He ate here many times before, especially in the days leading up to the mysterious craft's final countdown. In fact, it used to hover right above this very Waffle House only a few weeks ago.

"Nice weather today," the scribe says to the customer seated next to him. The customer slides down to the other end of the counter.

The restaurant resumes its chaotic hum, and a server approaches the scribe with the vacant look in her eyes that everyone carries around these days. The odds are 50-50 that she'll be overly friendly or outright hostile. There isn't an in between anymore. Everyone processes what happened in their own way, and almost no one talks about it. In five years' time, the scribe supposes, all manner of conspiracy theories will claim an event everyone on Earth experienced never happened.

Thankfully, the server gushes with friendliness, adjusted for a Waffle House. She asks the scribe, "Whatcha want?"

"What's good here?" the scribe says, more out of conversation than curiosity.

"I ain't got time to make decisions for you. You came in hungry, didn't you? Pick something," the server says.

After he places an order he'll ignore later, the scribe pulls out a pen and a notebook. Someone needs to write down what happened to them as a testament. It's not to make money or to brag, the scribe tells himself, but for the sake of understanding. No one understands what happened after the countdown, or why the craft appeared in the first place, or what any of it means. Maybe, someone in the future will, but only if there's something to consider.

"Why do I have to write it? My experience is so strange," the scribe asks himself under his breath. The ocean of vacant eyes in the Waffle House settles his doubts. The world is still too rattled to commit to remembering, floating like amoebic automatons. Stimulus-response. Stimulus-response. Hungry-eat. Eat-pay. Pay-leave. Leave-sleep. Sleep-shit. Shit-hungry. Repeat.

The scribe puts pen to paper and starts to write.

***

Ch. 1, Verse 1 – THEY don't believe HIM anymore. THE OBJEKT, that baffling and beautiful bullet in the sky—that was the sky—is gone now. Finished with its countdown from 30, it simply vanished the morning of August 31. It took with it so much, and left even more, but mainly—to the chosen few people known as THEM or THEY or TheY, since the last letter of the alphabet was forbidden to THEM—it took THEIR belief in HIM. However, it was not always that way, and it is of incredible importance that you understand why.

Ch. 1, Verse 2 – In the beginning, THEY believed HIM when HE healed that kid in the parking lot behind Waffle House #1243 in Orlando, smashed to pieces by a car and then put back together by HIS miraculous touch many months ago. No one remembered seeing any of this, but that didn't matter. All anyone needed, HE'd said, was to believe. And so the first few of HIS followers believed HIM, and these followers became THEY and THEM.

Ch. 1, Verse 3 –THEY believed HIM when HE disappeared for exactly three days and came back with that beard and that hair and those shoes and that accent and that propensity to hear voices at just the right times and HIS strange methods to make friends of enemies and that way HE'd look at you when HE spoke truths into you. Oh, that look! Piercing deep down to the soul HE'd go to swim and wiggle into a pregnancy of peace and love and understanding and justice and the fulfillment of every broken promise to every broken person. And that smell, that sweet aroma—like roses in water, like orange blossoms in the wind, like God's own aftershave—that followed HIM around like a drunk puppy to kiss HIS feet and bathe in HIS attention. THEY believed. Oh, THEY believed! And so THEY grew in number, and THEY believed.

***

"Whatcha writing?" the server asks the scribe as she refills his coffee for the third time. It's been a long time since he's had the courage to drink the brew. He forgot how incredible it tastes.

The scribe looks up from his pen. "Oh, nothing."

"You a writer?"

"I guess."

"You ever publish anything I've read?" the server asks.

"Maybe. Have you heard of Wattpad?" the scribe says.

"Sounds like I need to," the server says and walks off to greet another customer.

***

Ch. 1, Verse 4 – THEY believed when HE drew pictures of HIS magnificent visions that arrived only at the peak of writhing, sweating ecstasy. This, the symbiotic nature of THEIR relationship to HIM: HE the swollen cow that must be milked, and THEY the hands at the udders thirsting to drink.

Ch. 1, Verse 5 – THEY believed when HE overlaid the locations of Waffle Houses in the United States atop the living Earth's living arteries of living energy, called "ley lines." THEY believed when HE required more visions through more writhing and sweating and ecstasy. And so THEY writhed and THEY sweated and THEY explored every last corner of THEIR writhing, sweaty bodies. For it was the Waffle House that held the locks, and HE the key, and THEY the belief that these things combined will yield an epiphany. For even HE acknowledged, as anyone would, while laying breathless on the floor of an RV parked outside a Waffle House, that there must be a reason to all of this beyond mere mortal indulgences of flesh and French fries. A final purpose. A conclusion. And so THEY grew in number with every stop they made at every Waffle House, until the RV turned into an overhauled school bus.

Ch. 1, Verse 6 – THEY believed HIM when HE said HE could turn water into gasoline when the bus shuttered and sputtered and slid onto the shoulder. THEY believed HIM when HE said this transformation could only work if THEY shut THEIR eyes for a long time on the bus. And because THEY believed, and because THEY followed HIS directions, the bucket of water HE brought with HIM into the wilderness turned into gasoline. A miracle! Oh, how THEY believed HIM then.

Ch. 1, Verse 7 – THEY believed HIM when HE said THEY must remove the last letter of the alphabet—which cannot be written here out of respect for HIS beliefs—from THEIR vocabulary, either verbal or written. For to do so would be to acknowledge that there is an end to anything, and language is the descriptor of reality. Nothing could ever come to completion, HE said, until the arrival of some great, history-crushing event that no one on Earth could possibly ignore. HE referenced this event often, but HE never could put a name to the event, because HE said HE wasn't allowed to, because THEY were not ready to hear that part of HIS message. And so it was that the alphabet ended at Y, and THEY and THEM became TheY as well, because HE sayeth this pun sounded cool. Any of THEM caught using the other, forbidden letter at the end of the alphabet would be smote with the ferocity of a Waffle House knuckle swap at midnight.

Ch. 1, Verse 8 – It took such a midnight Waffle House knuckle swap for HIM to give a name to the event in HIS visions. A customer threw a chair at a cook, and the cook accidentally threw the chair at a different customer—who had nothing to do with the altercation—and that customer ducked, and so the chair careened toward HIM and HIS plate of All-Star Special™, and HE grabbed the chair with one hand without so much as missing a bite of HIS bacon. The entire Waffle House fell into silence, and HIS satisfaction in bringing the melee to a stop was so profound that HE was blessed with another vision. In that exact moment, at that exact table in Waffle House #1302, HE announced to the entire restaurant that the world may resume using a 26-letter alphabet after THE GRAND REVALASHUN occurred, for that singular event would mark the completion—the whole point—to all of this. It is now forgotten why HE chose to spell THE GRAND REVALASHUN in such a manner, but THEY believed the quirk only added to how informed HIS latest vision proved to be. For THEY believed—oh, brothers and sisters, how THEY believed!—that no one would be so moronic as to intentionally misspell "revelation," whether for lack of education or lack of care, given the gravity of HIS proclamation.

Ch. 1, Verse 9 – None of THEIR belief, however, could possibly come close to what THEY felt and experienced when THE GRAND REVALASHUN took place as HE foretold. For the stirring deep in THEIR souls transcended mere belief, becoming something even more powerful, as the whole world watched THE OBJEKT appear. THE OBJEKT, being massive in both form and spirit, struck the globe like a blacksmith's hammer and forged a new reality. Few on EARTH could claim they were prepared psychologically or spiritually or physically for such an event, and of those few even fewer boiled the heavens with the fever of their elation as THEY did. For THEY no longer believed. THEY knew. Oh, brothers and sisters, how THEY knew! The only thing THEY needed was for HIM to confirm that THE OBJEKT surely was the embodiment of THE GRAND REVALASHUN.

Ch. 1, Verse 10 – And so gathered all of THEM at exactly midnight in the parking lot of Waffle House #1011 to coax new levels of immortal vision out of HIS mortal body. Such a vision arrived after three hours and three minutes of such coaxing, bare bodies chaffed and chap from the writhing and sweating and ecstasy. And HE revealed the vision that confirmed THE OBJEKT truly was THE GRAND REVALASHUN, and so not one of THEM slept for a solid day after this pronouncement out of raw respect and revelry.

Ch. 1, Verse 11 – "Teacher, may we now use the forbidden letter? The one that used to mark the end of the alphabet?" THEY asked HIM. And HE replied, "We may not until we know THE OBJEKT." And THEY asked HIM, "Is that not THE GRAND REVALASHUN?" And HE replied, "It is, brothers and sisters, but I say unto you, to know is to experience. So we must go to THE OBJEKT, and we must experience THE OBJEKT for ourselves, for there is a sign about it that did not originate in one of my visions." And THEY begged and THEY begged for HIM to reveal what this meant. So HE told THEM, "Foolish beggars! Charity has already filled your wanting palms. Have you not heard the news? THE OBJEKT rests in permanent midnight above Waffle House #1041. A Waffle House! Should not this embolden your faith?"

Ch. 1, Verse 12 – Upon hearing this, THEY begged HIM forgiveness for THEIR ignorance, and so HE made THEM go bare into a ditch to be punished for THEIR lack of faith and most irritating demeanor. When HE finally reached satisfaction and THEIR transgressions were made whole, HE proclaimed, "Behold, while the rest of the world cowers in fear and hides on four legs, we stand firm on two legs with the spirit of the Waffle House!" And out of the ditch arose a cheer, for Waffle Houses do not close unless and until the world is ending, as it is written in the Waffle House Index. Then HE declared, "We must go to this chosen Waffle House #1041. Surely, brothers and sisters, this is so much more than cosmic coincidence. This is our moment!"

Ch. 1, Verse 13 – So it was that THEY journeyed with HIM in the bus to Waffle House #1041 beneath THE OBJEKT, bringing with THEM THEIR knowing and THEIR belief and THEIR cash money, for all the credit card processors were down, but that was not enough for the Waffle House in question to cease tableside service of waffles, T-bone steaks, hashbrowns, cheese 'n' eggs, country ham, pork chops, and grits to both the frightened and the faithful.

***

"You seem familiar. Have we met before?" the server asks the scribe.

"We might've," the scribe says and sips his coffee. "What were you doing during the—you know—the thing."

This rattles the server. She looks back at the kitchen. "Oh, OK. Yeah, um, let me grab something quick. Just a minute."

The server doesn't come back in a minute, or five minutes. The scribe keeps writing.

***

Ch. 2, Verse 1 – And when THEY arrived at Waffle House #1041, HE needn't visions any longer, and THEY had no use for visions, for the air was so pure it tasted like the breath of life itself, and the permanent midnight outlined the warm glow of the restaurant like a lighthouse against a dark shore, and the aromas of grease and griddle and grits and goodness went straight to THEIR stomachs like mana.

Ch. 2, Verse 2 – And when HE first set foot in Waffle House #1041, a man in a suit sitting in a corner leapt to his feet and shouted, "Hark! This is what I've been waiting for this whole time!" And HE sayeth to the man in the suit, "It is, brother. You are now THEM and THEY and TheY. Let us celebrate. I sayeth unto you—nay, to this entire eatery—that the food is on me. For soon we will have no use for food, or of money, for we will be among the stars with our galactic family, basking in perfect harmony with the universe on the craft above our heads, where we will let the recitation of that forbidden letter at the end of the alphabet be our annunciation. So mote it be!" Oh, brothers and sisters, how THEY rejoiced and filled THEIR bellies with cheese grits and biscuits. Two more joined THEM as well, having come down from the roof of the restaurant to partake in the food and celebrations. Even the chef in the back of the Waffle House cried out with tears in his eyes, "Eat all you want, you Manson-lookin' hippies. If the food is gone, maybe they'll finally close and I can go home." And sayeth the server responsible for dispersing the food to HE and THEM, "You freaks might not have any use for money, but I still do. You better pay for all this shit." And HE laughed and patted the server on the head, and the server slapped HIM, and so THEY smote the server with THEIR fists, and so a group of customers smote THEM with their fists as well, and so the chef grabbed a chair and a knife and threatened to bury all of them beneath blood and bruise. "Fuck this, I quit," sayeth the server. And so the server left, and THEY were made glad, and the chef cooked food for everyone, and HE was made glad. It is said the food was not as many as the mouths, and yet no mouth was left unsatiated.

***

The TV on the wall of the Waffle House switches to a news program. The chyron on the top story mentions something about satellite data taken during the time of the craft—or THE OBJEKT, as the scribe would write it.

"Turn that shit off. I'm so sick of hearing about it," someone from the other side of the Waffle House shouts.

The scribe watches as the server flips the TV to a baseball game.

***

Ch. 3, Verse 1 – All of the events hereto told occurred when THE OBJEKT hovered fresh in the sky. 'Twas a month ago. THE OBJEKT shone numbers in the sky, and those numbers counted down from 30, with a new number each day. HE assured THEM that HIS promises of harmony with the universe would be fulfilled once the number on THE OBJEKT finished its countdown. On the Earthly calendar, such a date would read as August 31. In the days prior, the staff of Waffle House #1041 turned over 54 times, and THEIR outstanding bill increased 327-fold as the food dispersed unabated, and the number of HIS followers quintupled, and HE was made glad.

Ch. 3, Verse 2 – On the morning of August 31, THEY could be seen in every corner and crevice of Waffle House #1041, so much so that the chef could barely prepare breakfast. Sayeth the chef, "Give me some space or there's going to be a grease fire." And HE laughed and HE said unto the chef, "I've no concern of fires, for today is the day." And the chef sayeth, "Yeah, it's the day one of you gets their fucking face melted off in a grease fire. Everyone out of the kitchen. I don't understand why they don't close this place." So HE led THEM out of the kitchen and into the parking lot to revel once more at THE OBJEKT that surely would take THEM to the next level of existence, and to prove THEIR worthiness for such an adventure by making bare of THEMselves and writhing and sweating and eating Toddle House®️ Omelets. But hark! Hark! Rays of sunlight fell unto THEM for the first time in a month, and it burned THEIR ashen bodies, for 'twas no more midnight than a waffle is a crocodile, and HE was not made glad, and THEY were also not made glad.

Ch. 3, Verse 3 – So it must be that HE and THEY ran—oh, how THEY ran!—back into Waffle House #1041 and turned on a television mounted to the wall. HE demanded the staff tune this television to the oracle known as the Cable News Network, and HE demanded THEY be quiet as the president of the United States of America animated the oracle.

Ch. 3, Verse 4 – Sayeth the president, "My fellow Americans, and to all members of the human race, I want you to hear it from me first. The craft that mysteriously appeared over our skies has just as mysteriously disappeared. I want to lay to rest any rumors: this is not the result of military action. The international community, including scientists from every continent, conducted research as quickly as possible. However, whether we did something or did not, the craft ended its countdown and left our skies. We have no indication it's anywhere near Earth, or even in the solar system. Now, I'm not one to turn this into a partisan moment, but had Congress passed the budget I proposed earlier this year, we would've had far more resources at our disposal to expedite our research in this limited amount of time. Folks, the fact is this Congress is one of the most obstructive I've ever worked with in my 35 years in Washington. I urge every American voter to turn your frustration into action at the ballot box this November. As for what to do today, let me give you some advice: E.T. went home and now you should, too. Does anyone remember that movie? Yes? No? Ah, forget it. OK, time to take questions from the press."

Ch. 3, Verse 5 – How sad that those words from the president would mark the end of HIM and THEM as each knew it to be. For THEY turned to HIM and THEY said, "Blasphemer! THE OBJEKT is gone, yet we are still here. We believed in you, but all we have to show for it be herpes and heartburn." And this was disagreeable to HIM, and so HE smote the man in the suit in the eyes with the pepper shaker, and HE sayeth unto THEM, "Heretics! It is clear to all that one of you broke the sacred commandment, that of not using the forbidden letter at the end of the alphabet. You have proven us unworthy of The OBJEKT's intentions, and so it left us here. How dare you!" And there was much disagreement after that, and a melee took about.

Ch. 3, Verse 6 – Then came out the manager of Waffle House #1041 to break up the melee. The manager's words, not fists, ended the scuffle. The words be, "You heard the president. Time to go home. You all have been eating here on an open tab for a month. I've got the bill right here. Who's going to pay it?" Though the manager be not familiar with magical incantations, the words took the effect as such, and THEY drifted away from Waffle House #1041, until only HE remained. And HE smote the manager with a chair, and the manager smote HIM with a chair, and the chef smote both of them with a carafe of hot coffee, and then an ambulance came to treat HIM for burns, thereby adding to HIS outstanding debt.

Ch. 3, Verse 7 – Yet before the ambulance carried HIM away, the manager told HIM with glee that HE had failed in HIS mission. And so HE reached to the sky from the gurney one last time and doth proclaimed, "Failed? No. To know the presence of mystery from beyond our skies is beautiful beyond description. It is its own success. For is it not mystery that fuels us? Is it not the pursuit of answers that makes us human?"

Ch. 3, Verse 8 – And the manager, looking back at the wreckage of Waffle House #1041, sayeth unto HIM, "Uhhhh, sure, but that pursuit sure can leave behind a big mess." And HE sayeth unto the manager, "It can, but it's the friends we make along the way that matters the most." And the manager sayeth unto HIM, "Friends? Buddy, all your friends left when it came time to pay the bill." And so HE passed out in the gurney.

Ch. 3, Verse 9 – This be the Last Testament of the Waffle House Heretics. So mote it be!

***

The scribe closes his notebook and leaves a nice tip for the server on the counter. She smiles and then takes a step back.

"Hey, I know you. You cut your hair, didn't you?" the server says.

"I don't know who I am. I don't know anything anymore," the scribe says and pushes away from the counter.

<<<<<< THE END >>>>>>

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Ben Sobieck is an author, inventor, entrepreneur, and Reuben sandwich enthusiast. He read Jurassic Park at far too young an age, but it seems to have worked out. He resides in Minnesota, USA, where he has three kidneys. https://linktr.ee/bensobieck