Chapter 34: The Devil Went Down to Burlington

Same as Chapter 33.

"Hang on a sec… Joel, you're the mayor's son?!" Scott gasped.

"Working that clout, huh," Morty muttered.

"Stepson, but yeah." Joel maintained his smirk as he sat on a barstool, quickly silenced by a nudge from his mother.

"Hush, boy," Megan spoke in an upper-class Northeastern vernacular, blowing and obnoxiously popping another large bubble right in Monica's face.

"Er, good evening, Mrs. Frye. It's such an honor to be able to serve you tonight. I trust you didn't have much trouble getting here?" Monica asked, already having her server pad ready.

"Save it, crop top. I'm just here to see if I can understand the fuss about this retro dump and then scram."

"Right. Well, take as much time as you need."

"Say, what does the chef rec- ow!" Joel was shushed again, this time by a swat to the back of the head.

Nobody said anything for a few moments, before Megan cleared her throat to recapture Monica's attention.

"Yes, are you ready to eat?"

"Sure. I think I'll have the barbecue lasagna. Seems like one of the more subdued items on this wretched menu."

"And I'll have the- mmpphh!" Joel had his mother's hand slapped over his mouth.

"Shut up! …he'll have the same."

"Okay. You guys want it Memphis style, or Kansas City style?" Monica asked. A tiny part of her wanted to do it Alabama style, well aware of its strong emphasis on mayonnaise.

"Kansa- eek!" Joel received a karate chop to the head, eliciting some gasps from the other customers.

"Oh, be quiet you guys! You'd better not complain about how my family does things, 'cause your infrastructure is riding on us next year!" Megan barked, promptly cooling off and turning back around. "Anywho, we'll have it Memphis style."

Feeling that she couldn't say anything more without potentially letting an abrasive remark slip out, Monica just mustered a small grin and gave a thumbs-up, before she skated over to the serving window, where the twins waited on the other side.

"Alright, you heard the c**t. Two barbecue lasagnas, Memphis style. And make 'em snappy," she switched to a quieter tone.

"Uh, what's a cu-" Scott was about to say.

"That's our word, young man. Now get to it. And don't worry about the other orders; the rest of the cooks are handling them."

"Got it, Mom." Morty nodded, slamming his fist into his open palm. "Let's cook!"

"Alright!" Scott grinned with a raised fist.

Soon as their mother left to wait on the other patrons, the two boys shared a cocky grin and got straight to work, splitting up in order to get more steps done in less time. Scott brought some lightly sea-salted water to a boil, adding in the flat, ridge-free lasagna noodles in order to cook them al dente. Meanwhile his brother returned from the walk-in fridge with some homemade sausage, brisket, and pulled pork that had already been prepped. He briefly heated it all up in a skillet to drain the excess fat and give it a bit of a crunchy sear, before removing the meat and adding some homemade barbecue sauce and dry rub to the oil. Memphis style, characterized by the notable presence of tomato in the recipe.

Back at his end, Scott was busy preparing a homemade béchamel sauce, adding a little honey so it would compliment the barbecue flavors a little better. But right as he was stirring it, he cast a glance through the serving window, where he discovered to his horror that Megan and Joel were watching the twins unflinchingly as they cooked up their food. Neither of them bothered to say anything, but between Megan's cold, blank gaze and Joel's dastardly smirk, it did little to ease the boys' nerves.

"Focus, Scott," Morty ordered, nearly done chopping the brisket and sausage into smaller chunks. His apprehension appeared notably less obvious than his twin's.

"Y-Yeah… okay…" Scott gulped, readying a large block of colby jack cheese and a grater.

Saying no more, they resumed their duties. After spreading a bit of barbecue sauce onto the bottom of a pan, Morty got to work mixing the meat into the remaining sauce while his brother laid down a few lasagna noodles. From there came several repetitious layers of meat, béchamel, cheese, and more pasta, before everything was topped off with the remaining drops of sauce and more cheese and slid into the oven. To avoid getting too nervous, the boys silently agreed to clean up their mess while they waited, and it just so happened that the baking and cleaning were both done at roughly the same time.

Not hesitating even for a moment, Scott went ahead and grabbed the plates, while his half-brother carefully removed the lasagna from the oven, complete with an appetizing browning on top from where the melted colby jack had been kissed by the oven's heat. After letting it cool for just a minute or so, two perfectly square pieces were cut out and each slid neatly onto a plate, garnished with a sprig of cilantro and a small streak of Memphis-style barbecue sauce that encircled the dish.

With everything done, Morty reached up to smack the kitchen bell, but Scott beat him to it, getting in a few dings before Monica skated over.

"Nice work, boys!" she cooed, before setting a plate down before each of the guests of honor.

"Hmmm, looks edible enough." Megan sneered. "And the aroma isn't half-bad either."

"Yeah, this smells really-" Joel cut himself off when he spotted the death glare his mother gave him. "…my bad."

"Have to say, it feels pretty cathartic to see him in a moment of weakness." Morty smirked, folding his arms.

Nothing more was said as both customers sampled their dishes; Megan carefully savored what she ate, while her son only did so for a second or two, before wolfing his own portion down. His mother's expression didn't change, no matter how many slow bites she took until she was finished, even going so far as to eat the garnish. It was only when she'd mopped up the last few drops of sauce with her final bite when she flinched and her eyes widened behind her sunglasses.

"H-H-Holy… I mean, good heavens, I…" Megan struggled for words. "I don't even know why I was so skeptical, because goddamn is this amazing! Joel?"

Joel, who had finished his dinner even more quickly than his mother, also seemed speechless. He really did seem to like what he ate, but he didn't want to throw away his pride, wanting instead to uphold his image as a macho guy.

"Meh, least I could keep it down," he said at last, reapplying his trademark sneer.

"Haha, well we appreciate your patronage," Monica chuckled, hardly fazed by the school bully's remarks as she handed Megan a couple of plastic-wrapped treats. "Here, have an everything brownie and a hodgepodge cookie, both on the house."

"Wow, thanks!"

"And don't worry, 'cause you've definitely got our vote next year."

"Glad to hear it. Now come along, Joel. Let's hope we can walk this off with some more canvassing." Megan hopped off the stool after casually handing Monica two hundred-dollar bills. Despite sounding like she was in a better mood, she still didn't look the part.

Monica waited until the odd pair left and everyone else went back to business as usual, before hurrying into the kitchen with a squeal as she knelt down and shared a passionate hug with both of her sons.

"Eeee, we did it! I can't believe it!" she screamed.

"I know, right?!" Scott screamed as well.

"Mm-hmm, yep." Morty nodded.

"No words could even begin to describe how proud I am of the both of you!" Monica continued, standing back up. "If this is a sign of things to come, then I believe you two have what it takes to help run the restaurant when you grow up."

"Really?" Scott asked.

"Yes… but you still have quite a long way to go."

"Aww…"

---

Meanwhile, Joel and Megan had just exited the restaurant and split their complimentary desserts between themselves, ignoring the press as they strolled back to their limo, which was parked a few blocks into the darkness down the street.

"Mmm, ohh!" Megan moaned, licking her fingers clean of the brownie residue. Amazing how a little good food could so easily change her demeanor. "Man, that was good. I am definitely including my thoughts on both it and the cookie in the review."

"I enjoyed it too, but last I checked, you're not a food critic," Joel replied with a raised eyebrow.

"No, but I am a first lady. People will come flocking to anything I sing my praises about. Now come on. The next neighborhood we need to stop in is over twenty miles away, and it's full of old people. We'd better get there soon before they all go to sleep."

"Okay…" Joel's voice trailed off as he noticed an odd but familiar silhouette in one of the alleys they walked by. "…oh, but uh, I've gotta… y'know, go."

"Ugh, fine. But hurry up."

"Will do!"

Joel waited just a minute until his mother had vanished into the darkness, before turning around and heading into the alleyway.

"Uhm… hello?" he asked cautiously.

"'Ello, Joel," the figure replied in a coarse New Zealand accent, keeping his form hidden in the shadows. "Didja do what we agreed upon?"

"Uh… w-what?"

"We agreed that as soon as you and your mum went in, you'd give a scathing review that would destroy those twins' self-esteem!" the man explained, following a groan. "So what did you tell 'em?!"

"I… I didn't praise them… but boy did I want to, since what they made for me was just so good- aagghh!" Joel suddenly found himself yanked off the ground by his shirt, even more terrified since he couldn't make out who was lifting him up.

"Foolish boy! Ya' just up an' completely messed up a crucial part of our plan!"

"I'm s-sorry! R-Really! I-I just… I could always keep bullying them at school! Or I could beat 'em up! Or I could- oomph!" Joel was abruptly dropped to the ground.

"Fine, whatever. I suppose me plan's not shot quite yet. After all, the other pieces are all in place, so I'd say we're in a good position… but whatever you do, you'd better not let your guard down and ruin this for us… more specifically, for me."

"O-Okay."

"Understood?!"

"Yes! Yes! I got it! Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go!"

"Hmph, don't worry Balty." the figure rolled up his sleeve, gazing at his arm tattoo as best he could with the lack of lighting in the vicinity. "That pathetic excuse for a jock is only a means to an end. I'll have me revenge soon enough… for your sake."