Sunday 13 December 2020

Food Bank Adventures: Pete's Corner Grill Has Been Cornered and Killed


            On Saturday morning song practice went fairly smoothly and although my B string was still constantly going out of tune I was able to get it back quickly and finished rehearsal much earlier than usual. This allowed me time to put the finishing touches on the British Literature essay that I’d expanded from three to five pages. I finished it just after 9:00 and attached it to an email to my professor. 
            Shortly after that I got ready to go to the food bank for the first time since early September.
            When I was unlocking my bike I asked someone in line, “Is this the day the turkeys give out the vouchers?” The guy didn’t know. Since next Saturday is the last one before Christmas the one before that would normally be turkey voucher day and the turkeys would logically be given out on December 19. 
            I was a few minutes later than usual but the people I would normally chat with, like Beth or Graham weren’t anywhere in the line-up. 
            The painted hearts marking the social distancing spots have faded a little more since the last time I was there. 
            I looked across the street and was surprised to see that Pete’s Corner Grill had closed and that there was the cartoon head of a chicken with the words “Hot hot hot" advertizing the franchise that would be opening in the future. I asked the guy in front of me when Pete's had closed and he said that it wasn’t open last week. But when I look it up I see that it was forced to shut down in mid October after the landlord sold the building. It says online that Pete’s had been there for twelve years but it seems to me that it's been longer than that. Later I talked with my hallway neighbour Benji and he told me that Mary Brown’s Chicken is moving in. I already live on top of a Popeyes so it seems like chicken place overkill for Parkdale. Benji told me that Mary Brown’s is from the southern United States but I see that Mary Brown's Chicken and Taters is actually a Canadian franchise that started out in Newfoundland. The imagery on the window of what used to be Pete’s however looks nothing like the logo for Mary Brown. On further research I found that the actual franchise that is arriving at the place where Pete's used to be is Dave’s Hot Chicken. “Hot" chicken is a style that came out of Nashville and the first franchise was Prince’s Hot Chicken. The legend goes that the inventor of the recipe was angry at her man for coming home late one night and so she tried to punish him by over spicing his fried chicken, but he loved it. 
            I pulled out my French-English book of stories and read from where I’d left off in "The Return of the Prodigal Son" but there's nothing much worth mentioning. The returned son has finished being chastised by his older brother and now he’s talking with his mother about why he left and why he returned. 
            I was standing next to the window of a ground floor apartment in 1501 Queen Street West and the shades were up. The little bachelor apartment was full of renovation equipment and the place looks cute but it’s a very small space. 
            Where the sidewalk meets the building there is a very short strip of deep green but ragged grass. About six centimetres long it is the only grass against the building. I assume that it’s been fertilized by people peeing there. 
            When I left my place I wasn’t sure how cold it was going to be but I wore two scarves and brought my winter gloves along just in case. I was glad I did because it got progressively colder the longer I stood in line waiting. Despite the frigid discomfort however I was glad to be outside. For the last three months I have spent most of my time sitting at the computer and writing essays or reading for my U of T courses. All that sitting was taking its toll on my body. I still have to study for a Canadian Literature exam that takes place on December 22 but I think I’m going to spend some time riding my bike as well. 
            At around 10:30 when it was just starting to rain a young man came by with the clipboard to take down my name and membership number. I told him that I have special dietary needs because I’m a humanitarian and only eat people. He said he liked that. 
            The first wave of milk crates ran out just before me and so I moved up to the front and waited by the door. The guy that gave me mine was in his twenties and only dressed in a shirt. I guess if he was just popping in and out than being dressed so thinly in the cold wouldn’t be a problem. 
            When I went through my crate I kept almost everything that was in it. I took the paper bag with the Lush logo that contained about fifteen individual servings of Tim Hortons instant coffee; one strawberry flavoured, oat, apple and date bar; one almond, vanilla chicory bar; a 354 gram can of chunked chicken breast; a can of chick peas; a can of chicken noodle soup; a jar of Neapolitan style tomato and basil sauce; a baguette; three eggs; four apple-grape juice drinking boxes; a pack of two mini strawberry and two strawberry-banana yogourt containers; and a bag containing about thirty breaded and spiced and browned but “raw chicken tenders”.
            I put the tiny bottle of zero alcohol mouthwash (I hate the flavour of the kind without alcohol); the two packs of spaghetti, the package of white Oreos and the little container of sugared peanut butter back in the crate. 
            I stood up and held the crate out to the first person I saw, which was the septuagenarian Polish lady who’s been coming there every week for years. She took it from me without even looking inside and started packing the stuff in her cart. 
            This haul at the food bank really stood out beneath all the others for the fact that there was not a single vegetable (not even a gnarly little carrot) or piece of fruit (not so much as a year old withered, skin soft apple) anywhere to be found. It's hard to know if it’s the new management or covid 19 that is to blame for the poverty of the offerings this time. 
            There was also not any mention of turkeys being given out next week. If it doesn’t happen it will be the first time in all the six years I’ve been coming there. 
            I went home to put my food away. 
            I chatted with my hallway neighbours Benji and Shankar before I headed out to the supermarket. I gave Shankar the instant coffee and he appreciated it. It seemed to be a novelty for him since I don’t think he's ever had instant coffee before. Benji told me that the guy in apartment six on the third floor is moving out and that a Sri Lankan guy is moving in. Shankar, who is also Sri Lankan exclaimed, “Tamil Tiger! Suicide!” Benji clarified that he's not sure if the guy is actually Sri Lankan and that he might be East or West Indian. 
            Before leaving for the grocery store I checked my email and there was a message from my British Literature professor telling me to upload my essay to the Short Assignment #2 page on Quercus, so I did that before heading out. 
            At No Frills the grapes were super cheap and I got five bags. I grabbed a half pint of blueberries, a pack of chicken drumsticks, a container of Greek yogourt, a bag of Miss Vicky’s jalapeno chips because they didn't have plain, and a jar of hot salsa. 
            I had Triscuits with onion cheddar and a bran muffin for lunch. 
            I worked on writing up my first Food Bank Adventure in three months. For dinner I had a fried egg with an end of the baguette and a beer while watching part three of Quatermass and the Pit. 
            Private West, the man who screamed after seeing a figure pass through the wall of the bulkhead of the object they are exploring, says that it looked like a dwarf. The old newspaper reports about Hobbes Lane that Barbara uncovered also speaks of dwarves passing through walls. Quatermass and Roney go to the archives to research the area and find that whenever digging has been done the phenomena of strange sounds and sightings have occurred. The reports go back centuries and they also find that Hobbes Lane used to be called “Hob Lane” and "Hob" is one of the names for the Devil. Meanwhile the soldiers have unearthed the circular hatch of the object. It is taken to a lab but even the hottest blowtorch can't make a dent in it. Inside the object the walls are covered with cabalistic designs and on the impenetrable wall between the bulkhead and the front Is a pentacle. Quatermass notices that there is a circular seam around the pentacle indicating that it might be a portal. The hardest drill available is brought in but when the technician begins to drill the object emits and extremely loud and disorienting sound that shakes everyone that hears it. Afterwards a hole appears in the door, although not where the drill had been applied, which made no dent whatsoever. The hole seems to have melted through from inside. With the help of the hole they are able to unscrew the portal and inside in a chamber that seems to be crisscrossed with webs, are the petrified bodies of creatures that look something like giant upright preying mantises.



No comments:

Post a Comment