Genesis of Evil by Nile J. Limbaugh Page A

fearful that he was leaving a trail. As he sat he tried to remember what he had eaten that could have contained so many prunes. He heard the toilet flush in the next bedroom. Ten minutes later, between spasms, he dashed into the hall and stuck his head into Virginia’s bedroom.
    “You got it, too?” he asked as she shuffled from the bathroom.
    “What do you think I was doing in there, putting in a new faucet?” she hissed. “I feel like my insides are falling out. What the hell did they feed us, anyway? Jesus,” she said. She dropped onto the bed and sat staring balefully at her husband.
    Gerhart’s stomach growled and he dashed back to his bathroom.
     
    By eight the next morning Gerhart felt he would probably live, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He wandered weakly into the kitchen and put water on for tea. As he was loading the toaster, Virginia entered and plopped onto a chair.
    “You look like you just left your tomb, not your room,” he offered with a wan smile. “Want some toast and tea?”
    She nodded and propped her chin up with both palms. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “We both had something different, except for that damn chocolate mousse.” She rubbed the back of her neck then stood and struggled to the phone.
    “Naomi? Virginia. Not so good. You didn’t have any of that chocolate mousse last night, did you? I didn’t think so. How’s Manning? Really? Ten times thinner than the Mississippi River, huh? We did, too. I think it was that mousse. Yeah. Give him some dry toast and tea. Okay. Talk to you later. Bye.” She hung up the instrument and crawled back onto her chair. “Did you get all of that?”
    “Yeah,” Gerhart grunted as he squeezed a tea bag with a spoon. “I’ll call the restaurant.”
    Five minutes later, he hung up the phone and finished his toast and tea. Virginia went to answer what she hoped would be her last call of nature for at least two weeks.
    “What’s the story?” she asked when she returned.
    Gerhart poured hot water into her cup and dropped in a tea bag. “I’ve never heard anybody apologize before they said hello. The manager told me the phone at the restaurant was ringing when he walked in this morning and hasn’t stopped yet. After he fielded fifteen or twenty calls, he started asking questions to the rest of the help as they came in. Nobody seemed to know anything, but the guy who fixed all the desserts last night didn’t show up for work. The manager opened his locker. Guess what he found?”
    “Don’t play Twenty Questions with me, Gerhart, I’m not up to it.”
    “Sorry. There was almost half a case of chocolate laxative in there.”
    Virginia sat straight up in her chair. “A laxative? We had a laxative for dessert?”
    “Along with half the citizens of Trinidad, apparently. There were three or four dishes left in the fridge. I told him to set them out in the alley and see if the rats get the shits.”
    “So, what is he going to do about it?”
    “What’s to do? The cook flew the coop. It’s hardly the manager’s fault. The dessert chef came with the best of references. I’m going to send somebody around to the guy’s apartment to see if he’s there, but I’m not holding my breath.”
    “A laxative,” Virginia said, shaking her head. “It’s enough to make you swear off restaurants for life.”
    Gerhart stuffed the last piece of toast into his mouth and decided to go to work early. It would beat the hell out of sitting around listening to Virginia gripe and moan.
     
    By two in the afternoon, Gerhart felt much better. He felt so good, in fact, that he decided to go somewhere for a hamburger. He was three blocks from the station when the dispatcher came on the air and asked for the nearest car to the mall. Gerhart was only a few blocks away and answered the call. One of the mall security guards was standing on the curb when Gerhart drove up. The guard grinned and stuck out a hand when Gerhart climbed from the