Final Creative Thought - The Stranger

It was a full moon, the iridescent light reflecting off the surface of the waves and shining through to the bottom of the lagoon. Here, under the cover of darkness and waves, shadows elongate and shift like the tides of the sea. This is the place where creatures come to satiate their hunger and devour their dinners. This unique restaurant is called…. “Fast FOOOOOOOOOOD,” famously named and known after its loooooooong menu. The eerie glow of green lanterns bobs with the current, tethered to rocky outcroppings and bleached coral. Servers slowly tread on the sandy floor, each step kicking up sands and small crustaceans, as their postures become more and more slouchy as if their shoulders are glued on to their ears. Small schools of fish swim between the stone slab tables, customers admiring their gleaming scales as they shiver by. 

Inside this nocturnal cove are three entities slumped in their chairs, all equally perturbed by their conversation. The priest, the most righteous of the trio, squealed brightly, “I wanted to start this counseling session with a key question that you, Marie, must answer with honesty and moral conviction: for which reasons do you hold resentment towards your partner?” 

Marie replied, “Well, honestly since the murder happened I've been having trouble trusting Meursault. I still love him very much but since I can't quite understand his reasoning for killing a man I feel disconnected from him.” 

Just as the Priest was about to respond to her sentiment, the waiter arrived to take the group’s order. 

“What can I get for you folks today?” she inquired. 

“Hmmm…well, I am unable to speak for these two individuals sitting beside me, but personally I will not be having food since I am in the midst of a fasting period. However, I will indulge in your house special, the carrot-grapefruit-zucchini juice,” said the priest dutifully. 

“Of course, and for you two?” asked the waiter patiently. 

Meursault looked puzzled. Marie replied, “I will get the house salad with a side of almonds and no dressing please. I’ll also get the unicorn frappuccino. Ooh, I almost forgot! Can I please have some unseasoned boiled chicken to pair with that? Thank you so much.” 

Everyone turned to Meursault, expecting a response following Marie’s. “Why is everyone looking at me?” Meursault inquired thoughtlessly. No one said anything, until the waiter duly responded, “Oh sweetheart, we’re just waiting for you to place your order, silly!”

His eyes widened in a brief, unguarded moment of realization, as if the thought had arrived before he could decide how to react. “Oh, okay. It doesn't quite matter to me. Plus, the menu is absurdly long, I'm not reading all that. I'll get anything.” 

“Then, may I recommend a personal favorite? I’ll jot you down for the triple cheese burger marinated in pickle juice for 24 hrs?” 

“Sure. Makes no difference to me.” 

“Alrighty then! I’ll put those orders in for you folks and that should be ready suuuuuuper fast!!” 

As the waiter left, the Priest turned his focus back to Marie. He picked up his previous train of thought. 

“As I recall, Marie, you feel quite burdened with the knowledge of Meursault’s nonchalance towards his murder of the unnamed man on the beach, is that right?” “Yes,” she nodded, tucking a stray hair behind her ear as she peered up at the priest from beneath her wad of hair, “I just feel like I don’t know where I stand in his equation. Before the murder, I felt he and I had sort of a non-verbal agreement that we loved each other or just enjoyed spending time together…now, it’s like there’s a heavy energy over him and honestly it’s exhausting trying to be his bright sunshine when I’m just a dim candle in my own life and his life is the darkest cave known to man.” 

The priest nodded solemnly, as if in perfect understanding. Meursault, however, was looking out over the nighttime scenery, jaw agape and eyes blurred over. “I don’t understand why Marie is so affected by the murder. I mean, it had nothing to do with her. I also already told her that I probably didn’t love her. Why does she care that I killed someone when she never saw it, has no PTSD, and can’t understand the heat of the sun and the pressure I was under at that moment?” 

“Well Meursault,” the Priest started, “Marie is allowed to care. She is allowed to choose you as her partner. She is not you – she is her own individual. The fact that she struggles with your status as ‘murderer’ is indicative of her feelings towards you. In fact, this is more or less proof of her love. Additionally, Marie, he's not a murderer, he's God’s child. As his child, he is forgiven for his sins and is accepted into the faith.” 

Meursault sighed, shoulders crooked. Silence. He breathed in, and out, and in again. He held his breath. He let out a looooooong exhale that lasted ten seconds. “I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall – pointless. Useless. Indescribably horrific. Everything goes in one ear, and gets whipped out the other. I’ve already told you this multiple times. I DONT BELIEVE IN GOD. OR FAITH. OR HOPE.” The Priest’s eye twitched once. He looked down. The server came with their food.

“Hi everybody! How’re we hanging in there? I hope y’all are having a good time tonight! Here is your carrot-grapefruit-zucchini juice, your salad, your frappucino, your boiled chicken, and your burger. Can I get you folks anything else?” 

Marie looks up, smiling stiffly, “No, thank you.” Just as the Priest whips out his rosary and Bible for mealtime prayer, Meursault sits quite still, eyes like a dead fish, jumbling a triple cheese burger down his throat, inhaling the darn thing. 

The priest’s eyes widened with shock and burning rage, “HOW. DARE. YOU.” Meursault, burger and pickle juice dribbling down his chin, down his neck and staining his shirt, looks up with a blank stare. In the midst of chewing his monstrous entrée, he mumbles, “Huh? Did you say something?” 

“IT IS TIME FOR A PRE-MEAL PRAYER. YOU NOW MUST REPENT TO THE LORD LEST YOU REMAIN UNFORGIVEN FOR YOUR SIN.” 

Marie glances around the room, nibbling on her crunchy kale, noticing everyone’s stares. 

“You’re kind of scaring me, I’m uncomfortable,” Meursault says candidly. The Priest’s complexion darkens, face burning with the heat of 1000 suns. Meursault continues, oblivious to the Priest’s irritation, “My belief is that there is no God. You believe there is one. Marie isn’t judging either of us, she’s just eating her bland kale. Why judge me when you could also enjoy your carrot-grapefruit-zucchini juice like Marie enjoys her boiled chicken?” 

“Well, I’ll pray for you tonight, in hopes that you, too, can find God,” the Priest says, quieting down, “True devotion is a markèd trait of the virtuous, and virtuous you are not.” Meursault’s lip quivers as he sharply raises an eyebrow with a puzzled look revealing the slightest hint of disgust, “Well, what’s the point in judging each other's opinions anyway or even being repugnated by your anxious attachment to religion if we're all dying anyways? It doesn't matter.” 

Out of the blue, the waiter comes over, bringing the check and carrying three pearly iridescent potions in glass vials with cork stoppers. 

“I know you folks are wrapping up your conversation, so I thought now was a good moment to tell you that some of the staff are having a mermaid-conversion party. I got three potions for all of you! Interested?” 

The Priest stared back at her in disbelief of the sin in front of him, “This is not Godly. I will not partake in your unholy rituals led by the devil itself.” “Gee whiz, I’m sorry you feel so strongly about this topic. Stay human, I guess? Ha, ha…” they cackled awkwardly, bubbles dispersing into the water around them.

Meursault's eyes widened, his expression remained unfazed, “I’ll take it. I don't care. Mermaid or human, death is the only escape to either fate. l’ll just drink it.” Marie’s mouth opened as if she was about to stop him, but before she could Meursault grabbed the potion and jolted it down in one big gulp. 

In a moment of deliberation, Marie snatched that potion quicker than the Priest could run away and popped off the cork, sipping it slowly in derealisation. “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum,” the Priest quietly mumbled, praying in Latin. The waiter turned to him, alarmed. He continued, with more confidence and volume, “Adveniat regnum tuum, fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra! Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris!” The Priest gasped as Marie and Meursault began to show scales, morphing into mermaids. 

He began to yell, chanting, “NOLI NOS INCLUDERE IN TENTATIONEM, SED LIBERA NOS A MALO!” 

Meursault and Marie ultimately completed their transformation and shivered away, swimming amongst the flashy fish disappearing into the mariana trench where they now reside. 

The priest throbbled in shock, and came to his death at Fast FOOOOOOOOOOD restaurant. He died a slow death, some say it was even longer than the menu. Legend has it that his soul haunts Fast FOOOOOOOOD restaurant, but everyone (including him) ultimately hopes that he went to heaven. 

-—-----The End—------