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Isaiah Jones versus the Sea (A 21st Century Odyssey)

Havana Hustle the Prequel pt 2. pt 1 of 2

Mi Devil Wears Armani: Our Dinner with Dead Eye Polly

Toska

“Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore”

– Giacomo Puccini

The soiree was white only, the type of formal affair both old money and the nouveau riche regularly held on their 100-foot super yachts while anchored in Cannes. Isaiah understood their host for the evening well; their minds were two sides of the same grief-minted coin. Unlike Penelope, Aeon, and Sybil, he understood they weren’t so much being invited to dinner as they were being summoned. An invitation from Naomi Galetea Cabbala requesting that they join them for dinner was the same as if Polly Laveau Ovejero himself were inviting them. They, like Naomi, were being commanded, just very politely, for now.

Tonight, they were all four attired in the haute couture nautical whites ensembles procured for each personally by Naomi to be worn while they attended tonight’s 14-course dinner with their host and her patron. The restaurant on the 99th floor was within the poured concrete walls of the 100-story monolithic mega structure of the ebony ziggurat that hovered above the cityscape.

They had all assumed that when Naomi messaged them to let them know there would be a car sent to pick them up it would be another tropical evening riding in one of the island’s vintage 1950s convertibles. The new model Mercedes S-Class limousine was a surprise, the long lacquer black limo with its mirror-tinted windows drove the elegantly dressed quartet to the entrance stopping just outside of the Shaolin temple in front of the massive building.

They exited the vehicle and entered the temple’s central training grounds the ai MOTHER had constructed the building for the crimson-robed African monks before they volunteered to guard Isaiah. The solid white cube, 30 X 30, had no doors or windows rested in the center of the courtyard. To call the building in front of the entrance to the ziggurat a temple was being generous with the definition of that word. This was a masterfully designed fortress with poured cement buttressed high walls and a double-doored, barred parapeted gateway controlled by the brothers of the monastery.

The medieval design of the reproduction of the ancient mythical Chinese temple led into the courtyard of the fortress. In the center of the courtyards stood the white cube. Always built first, it was filled with construction robots, 3D printers, and supplies before it was sealed with no entrance or exit. The 30-meter featureless sealed cement cube stood in the middle of the courtyard where the monks practiced, studied, and meditated daily.

They were the first apparent level of security to the entrance, filled with African Shaolin-trained monks. Guards drifted in the darkened corridors, hidden passageways, and secret rooms built into the thick walls of the megastructure, all passed through in order to enter the megastructure at ground level. This ensured the monks effectively guarded the entrance to every ziggurat.

Beijing approved of this use of its new soft power, spreading the culture and promoting positive images for China worldwide. This being the entire point of the cultural affairs office resurrecting the myth of Shaolin officially. Was it a cheap, cynical play to manipulate the people? Yes. Did it work? Of course, it did; no one wanted to be the Chinese cultural affairs team that missed out on the next ‘Kung Fu Panda’ after the fiasco two decades back, and no one wanted to get on the wrong side of the CCP chairman after what happened to the previous members of the cultural affairs department. Sponsoring the mission of exporting Buddhism and kung fu was a net positive in constructing psyches that thought of China favorably.

In reality, the Chinese government’s resurrection of the Shaolin Temple was the equivalent of the English crown resurrecting Camelot and reenacting King Arthur and the Grail Legend at first. But there were always real Buddhist monks willing to work with the government for what both considered a good cause that benefitted both the state and the monastery while bolstering the image of Chinese culture internationally.

The monks began teaching black Africans traditional Chinese Kung Fu and Buddhism while staying out of politics directly, and for the last 3 decades, the CCP kept its nose out of the affairs of the resurrected Shaolin Monastery.

The long black tunnel in the thick poured concrete walls led into the interior of the ziggurat, and even though they could not see them, they knew that there were guards everywhere watching. They made their way to the glass elevators that led to the offices, shops, and restaurants that lined the interior walls of the hollow structure. The angled walls allowed the diners to look down into the hollow interior of the metropolis within the megastructure.

All of the vehicles within were automated and constructed without controls for steering by human operators. Drones with Isaiah’s new prop design flew nearly as silently as their ion-thruster-powered counterparts. The air and passageways were alive with human and robot activity, cleaning, repairing, and gardening. Tiny drones buzzed insect-like, busy within the atrium and passageways within the ziggurat; it was as if they had traveled to another world by entering the ziggurat.

The people who lived here inside the gargantuan building were linked to the AI MOTHER; they wore a collar of synthetic skin with a wireless relay embedded, and they were able to access the web remotely with no other device. The AI projected the image directly onto the brain’s optical and audio synapses, making things like phones and pc all but useless to them. They did not experience the virtual sickness that incapacitated those who used virtual reality tech for too long. Extreme cases caused the users to go into comas, and several have died. The virtual world is impossible for humans to endure for extended periods of time without paying a terrible price.

But here, the inhabitants that were in the cybernetic loop with MOTHER were seemingly immune to any of the negative side effects. Aeon and Izzy were both curious about how this was possible.

When the elevator arrived at the 99th floor, their guide escorted the quartet to the entrance of the diner. The word ‘ETEMENANKI’ was etched into the frosted glass of the restaurant’s automated sliding doors. Once inside, they were led to their table by the croupier before the maître d’ arrived. The others in attendance other than staff and orchestra were Naomi sitting next to her were most of Cuba’s highest-ranking clergy the bishop and reverend mother of the local diocese, the military officers all in their medal-bedazzled finery, and politicians in traditional black tie best ensembles; only Isaiah, Aeon, Penelope, and Sybil wore white, other than their hostess Naomi of course who wore all red.

Their raven-haired hostess her carbon-colored locs worn in a French braid stood the diamond bejeweled crimson gown a gift from her employer the dress: “The Nightingale of Kuala Lumpur, designed by Faisal Abdullah from the Jendela fashion house” Naomi introduced them to the various officials around the table the old warriors and bureaucrats were happy to finally see the man who had for reasons that were a mystery to all except Naomi gifted their nation with the new AI MOTHER.

They are like the 10 coastal cities in Africa where the ziggurats were built. They, too, had a huge population increase as the workers traveled from across the globe to aid in the work not done by construction robots. The reality was that there simply were not enough native programmers and engineers to complete the job using only indigenous labor. Here, as in Africa, the majority of the programmers were Asian. Mostly, Chinese, Indians, and North Koreans were chosen because they had large, well-educated populations in relatively peaceful, the largest nations on the planet. Except for the North Koreans, who simply produced the best hackers on the planet.

Naomi Galatea Cabbala was 20 years older than Isaiah and 10 years younger than his parents. The former Delta Force Operative now worked for herself as an independent contractor who was the official face of Dead Eye Polly’s criminal organization’s legitimate businesses. She was a 40-year-old, 5-foot-11-inch-tall, skinned, muscular woman, only an inch shorter than Penny, but unlike Penny, her facial features were not mannish per se. She was what one would describe as a handsome woman, sexy with a powerful masculine energy radiating from her being. Even simply standing there in her gold lace fitted dress, she was obviously the person in charge here, while surrounded by the island nation’s most powerful political and military leaders.

Dead Eye Polly Ovejero arrived as they sat sipping their first round of drinks. The 6-foot-9-inch tall, 413-pound albino negro was elegantly dressed in an ivory Armani suit with a crimson silk shirt and black necktie. He handed his white Panama to his valet and wiped his brow with an embroidered handkerchief that never seemed to leave his left hand for long. His head was covered with silver cornrows, his silver eyebrows thick and bushy, and wild above a single pale blue eye shone beneath his cornrowed head. The other eye, a dead milky white of the blind, sat in the socket unmoving. The big man smiled broadly when he saw his old friend Isaiah seated at the table, and every one of the Cuban dignitaries was shocked when the fearsome albino negro embraced the young engineer-turned-warlord as if he were his own son.

“It’s been too long, old friend! It is good to see you again after all these years, Isaiah. Forgive me if I am somewhat confused. What is the protocol these days? Do I kiss your ring or your ass now that my mathematician is the Emperor Jones?”

“Please, a simple curtsy will suffice.” Isaiah retorted with a big, goofy, boyish grin as the two men both laughed as they embraced once more. They were a study in contrast, side by side with the 6-foot-2-inch engineer, as black as the enormous albino negro was white. Polly’s effete speaking voice was high and nasal, a complete surprise considering his great mass. His adenoidal voice was in that odd lisping register, a cross between Mike Tyson and Truman Capote with his father’s Cuban accent.

Dead Eye Polly Ovejero was not known to be a particularly affectionate man, and this behavior caused confused stares from the local officials seated at the table. After the two men finished embracing each other, even Isaiah’s friends were confused. Besides being a cliché introverted genius, the high-functioning autistic mathematician was also well known for not liking to be touched by strangers. Yet, he was robustly overjoyed to see this Cuban gangster again. Aeon and Penny both exchanged bewildered looks as the two-titanium white Armani-suited men finally introduced Senor Ovejero to the strangers at the table.

“Mi Amigo, Izzy grinned, this is mi jeva Aeon Gabriella Zavala, this lovely blonde Harlequin there is mi amiga, attorney, and financial advisor Senorita Penelope Stockard Bedowitz esquire, and this young lady is mi chino wife’s prima fresh from the Egyptian coastal village Tokar (Arabic: طوكر), [also transliterated Tawkar,]; Sybil O-kesa of the [Bujah or Bedawiye,] the Beja tribe.”

Polly, ever the gentleman, bowed courteously as he delicately shook each woman’s hand as they were introduced before taking his seat at the head of the table. He rested his great bulk in the heavy gilded cast-iron chair lined with thick zinc-white satin cushions. The behemoth adjusted his great mass in the oversized metal chair at the head of the long black marble top dining table, as the haute cuisine 14-course dinner began the first course of “Seared Scallops and Baby Spinach with Spiced Pomegranate Glaze” was about to be served, he quickly forgot the local government officials dismissing their inquiry’s with a wave of his kerchief dangling hand. The two men ignored everyone else at the table and relaxed as they ate, drank, and talked of old times, catching up with each other like long-lost frat brothers. Sybil, Penelope, and Aeon chatted with Naomi while the two old friends caught up.

After dessert, the ladies, drinks in hand, excused themselves and took a stroll around the terraces that lined the outer walls 99 stories above the island. They stood on the balcony that overlooked the Caribbean Sea just beyond the old city beneath them.

Naomi leaned on the polished transparent aluminum railing and stared out over the city, champagne glass in hand.

“There are 751 diamonds on your dress,” the bubblegum-pink Bantu knot-crowned African girl stated as she stood next to their hostess on the balcony.

“I like your tattoo.” Sybil said, admiring the old Delta Force Operatives ‘Death before Dishonor’ over a skull and crossed daggers. Naomi looked at the diminutive black woman with the same emerald eyes as Isaiah and smiled. She normally wore something that covered her biceps, but tonight she wanted everyone here to know who they were dealing with subtly, or as subtly as a 5-foot-11-inch-tall woman in a crimson silk and taffeta diamond-encrusted 30-million-dollar evening gown could be.

As Dead Eye Polly’s number one, she was treated as the head of the Caribbean Central and South American underworlds. More goods were smuggled in and out of the US through Cuba (the largest island in the Caribbean) than any other nation in the region. As the public face of Dead Eye Polly’s legitimate businesses, she was the CEO of the region’s new tidal generators electric company, making Naomi literally the power in Cuba.

“Thank you, I like your hair, that’s a lovely color on you,” Naomi said sincerely. “My apologies for not getting back to you all sooner. I feel as if I abandoned you as soon as you arrived. Did your shoes not fit?” She asked, looking down at Sybil’s platform sneakers.

“No, Sybil replied, glancing down at the zinc white platform tennis shoes she bought the day before they left Tokyo. They fit just fine. I just like these better, she grinned. They make me taller.”

‘Well, Naomi said, somewhat confused by the almost childlike honesty of her response, That is certainly true,’ she concurred.

“We understand.” Aeon consoled. “Izzy and I have been working while we’re here as well, so there is no need for apologies; we’ve both been quite busy ourselves. And thank you for the ensemble.” Aeon confessed grudgingly to their hostess. “I hate to admit it, but you know my taste as well as, if not better than, I know myself. I adore this gown.”

“It’s Reverie Couture’s winter white crepe with silver jacquard shoulder and hematite beads gown,” Naomi said with a demure smile.

“Normally, I have to put out to get a girl to buy me something this pretty.” Aeon drawled, laying her Mississippi accent heavy. “Are you sweet on me?”

The group erupted with laughter.

Naomi hugged Aeon, smiling, “It’s so good to finally meet you after all of these years. Isaiah talked about you and Penelope so much that I felt as if I knew you both before we ever met. I hope that Starfish didn’t bother you girls too much; he loves dogs and new people, and he has been the island’s prince of parties for the last 7 years. He’s very much like his father in that regard, a very entrepreneurial spirit. But not a violent bone in the boy’s body, that’s why he’s the most successful pimp in all of the Caribbean. He owns the most popular brothels, discotheques, and casinos. I will take you all there after those two over there finish talking like old ladies after church.”

“Thanks’ Penny said as she admired the Dior one-shoulder sleeveless gown (her favorite designer in her preppy youth), their host had selected for her for the evening.” We had a blast hanging out with him last night. He is a real sweetheart; he comes over, knocks on our door, introduces himself, and he and his friends invite us to hang out and party with them on the beach.”

Sybil smiled. “It was the best night of my life.” Aeon looked on with a furrowed brow, remembering the no-holes-barred orgy she and Isaiah had witnessed them all in the throes of earlier that morning. Aeon shuddered, recalling the tall, rail-thin albino youngsters’ genitals lined with 18 surgical-steel barbell piercings spaced an inch apart and the puckered mouth of that purple life-like starfish tattooed around his bright pink anus, the mouth of the tattoo. This was the gangster’s Dead Eye, Polly’s son?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Naomi said to Aeon as they walked along the terrace that surrounded the upper levels.

“Darlin’, most of the time, I don’t even know what I’m thinking.” Aeon quipped, feeling the champagne’s effects. The cool breeze off the ocean gently tousled her afro, tied up and back like a crown with a white silk scarf.

“In the back, or maybe not so far back of your mind, you are wondering if I ever had sex with Isaiah.”

Aeon stopped the chiffon cape fluttering gently, the wind wrapping the gossamer cloth around the thick curves of her body.

“Now that you mention it,” Aeon retorted, “he does like a certain type of woman, more a personality type than a physical appearance thang, but yeah, you are his type. And it was not in the back of my mind. It’s been the teacher’s pet sitting in the front row with her hand raised since I first heard your name mentioned. Izzy keeps things to himself even though we’re engaged, Aeon shrugged. I never push about this sort of thing; it’s bad form.”

Naomi giggled and hugged her again, “Relax, nothing like that ever happened,” she lied breezily as she looked at the three women standing together on the obsidian balcony that enwrapped the 99th level just beneath the sealed top floor of the 100-story megastructure. Aeon stood next to the tall ivory-skinned crimson-garbed woman on her right, with Penelope and Sybil all dressed in white, standing on the other side.

“I never told Isaiah this, Naomi confessed. But I knew who he was the moment I regained consciousness and realized what ship I was aboard. I had seen the viral video from the party in Key West a few days before. But I remembered him from before that evening.”

“Oh, Aeon said, you mean the 30 Under 30 People Magazine cover when he was 9?”

“No, she replied I remember the newspaper article from 10 years before. It was his eyes, the same eyes as his white mother’s. Huge green eyes in the AP article photo taken as they walked away from the search and rescue helicopter, they were both wrapped in grey blankets given to them by the marines that pulled them out of the water after the ship sank the night before in the storm. The weather was too rough to send an S & R team until daybreak.

The two of them had survived all night in the storm using a single life vest. The blankets were wrapped around them covering the tops of their heads and hanging on them in a way that made them look tribal but it was the look in the eyes of the tiny redheaded white woman holding the hand of the little black boy with the same emerald eyes, I remember they did not look tired or afraid but as if they were warriors returning home, they looked fierce, when I looked into their eyes, they looked invincible.”

Aeon listened, caught in a swirl of her own emotional turmoil, and she had kept the same Associated Press article in the cerulean blue box under her bed as a child. She knew exactly what photograph she was speaking of; she had stared at it in wonder many times over the years, thinking the same thing.

“I had been shot and was bleeding out on a skiff adrift off the coast of the Bahamas when he found me unconscious 7 years ago. Naomi confided in the group. Your fiancée was only 16 at the time, but he saved my life.”

“He didn’t turn me in to the authorities and instead nursed me back to health before he sailed several hundred miles out of his way to get me to my people here in Cuba. I was doing a job for our Señor Polly when I got shot. Naomi said with a smile. The boss never forgets a good deed or a bad one; in Isaiah’s case, it was good. They bonded almost instantly; it was sort of beautiful, but at the same time, knowing my employer, it was also deeply disturbing.” Naomi looked at Aeon. “I work with the man, but I’m under no illusions; he is a monster. We, fortunately, will never have to worry about seeing that side of the man. He’s a devout catholic, a man of faith who gives most of his profits away rather than hoarding it. He believes that it helps the economy to keep the money in circulation in the community.”

“Is he a sociopath? Yes, but not some cartoon villain. He has a retirement plan and even training programs for those who wish to work in the civilian sector after soldiering for his organization. The only rule is that you cannot go into law enforcement or work for a rival criminal organization. There are chefs here who were once his personal hitmen and guards. He’s a contradiction, very conservative in his style and taste, yet a very socially progressive thinker in that regard. Isaiah left a message encoded to contact MOTHER here with Senor Polly before he continued his voyage to Ghana. No one else knew until he reached Africa and gave that speech in Accra Bay Stadium that there were similar plans in place here in Cuba already. Señor Polly placed me in charge of the new power company and the construction of the ziggurat as the AI MOTHER’s Cuban interface.” Naomi said with a shrug and a knowing grin.

“Why didn’t his son join us for dinner this evening?” Aeon asked.

“Señor Polly and his surviving son, Antonio, the one who goes by the name Starfish, do not get along. For obvious reasons. His son has no interest in taking over the family business. Señor Polly’s family has been the head of the organized crime families in Cuba for generations. After the death of Cesear, Polly hoped his estranged youngest son might change his mind. The two of them have only spoken once in 7 years, not since Caesar’s funeral. Even though they never met, Antonio blames his father for his estranged brother’s death.”

“Odd, Aeon said, Izzy hardly talked to his parents in that same time period, but it’s different. He sends us his coordinates every night before bed and each morning when he wakes up. It goes to the family. It’s a small thing, considering, but it makes all the difference in the world when he’s away. Even now, when I am on watch and he heads below deck to sleep, he still sends the message with his longitude and latitude. I’m a sucker for those sorts of little romantic things that he does just because he does without trying to be romantic.”

Naomi smiled as the orchestra began to play the opening notes of Dead Eye Polly’s favorite opera.

“He is so happy tonight.” They watched the two ivory-suited men as they stood together on the balcony a few yards away, looking out over the Caribbean night,

“Listen, they are already drunk and singing.” Polly’s high-pitched, adenoidal speaking voice gave way to a rich baritone as he sang with minor assistance from Izzy as Spoletta to his devilishly Machiavellian Scarpia, the Puccini aria.

‘Te Deum’ from Act I of Puccini’s ‘Tosca’.

“Va, Tosca! Nel tuo cuor s’annida Scarpia!…

È Scarpia che scioglie a volo

il falco della tua gelosia.

Quanta promessa nel tuo pronto sospetto!”

“His singing voice is extraordinary, isn’t it?” Naomi said wistfully, “I have not heard him sing in nearly a decade; the last time Isaiah was here.” Naomi said through tears as Polly finished, he collects himself, makes the Sign of the Cross. ‘Tosca, you make me forget God!” he kneels and prays devoutly.

“Magnifico, Bravo Señor,” he remains on bended knee, bald head beaded with perspiration, bowed reverently as they applaud. They were all moved to tears; it was a remarkable performance.

“He is Scarpia. If he wasn’t a homicidal maniac, she sighed wistfully. He would have been the greatest baritone since Tito Gobbi.”

[Note 1] ‘Te Deum’ from Act I of Tosca:

Libretto/Lyrics/Text/Testo:

SCARPIA

dopo aver accompagnato Tosca, ritorna presso la colonna e fa un cenno: subito si presenta Spoletta

Tre sbirri… Una carrozza…

Presto!… seguila

dovunque vada!… non visto!… provvedi!

SPOLETTA

Sta bene! Il convegno?

SCARPIA

Palazzo Farnese!

Spoletta parte rapidamente con tre sbirri

con un sorriso sardonico

Va, Tosca! Nel tuo cuor s’annida Scarpia!…

È Scarpia che scioglie a volo

il falco della tua gelosia.

Quanta promessa nel tuo pronto sospetto!

Esce il corteggio che accompagna il Cardinale all’altare maggiore: i soldati svizzeri fanno far largo alla folla, che si dispone su due ali.

.Scarpia s’inchina e prega al passaggio del Cardinale.

Il Cardinale benedice la folla che reverente s’inchina.

CAPITOLO

Adjutorum nostrum in nomine Domini

FOLLA

Qui fecit coelum et terram

CAPITOLO

Sit nomen Domini benedictum

FOLLA

Et hoc nunc et usquem in saeculum.

SCARPIA

con ferocia

A doppia mira

tendo il voler, né il capo del ribelle

è la più preziosa. Ah di quegli occhi

vittoriosi veder la fiamma

con passione erotica

illanguidir con spasimo d’amor,

fra le mie braccia…

ferocemente

L’uno al capestro,

l’altra fra le mie braccia…

resta immobile guardando nel vuoto.

Tutta la folla è rivolta verso l’altare maggiore; alcuni s’inginocchiano.

FOLLA

Te Deum laudamus:

Te Dominum confitemur!

SCARPIA

riavendosi come da un sogno

Tosca, mi fai dimenticare Iddio!

s’inginocchia e prega con entusiasmo religioso

TUTTI

Te aeternum Patrem

omnis terra veneratur!

“English Libretto or Translation:

SCARPIA

to Spoletta, who emerges from behind the column

Three men and a carriage … Quick, follow

Wherever she goes! And take care!

SPOLETTA

Yes Sir. And where do we meet?

SCARPIA

Farnese Palace!

Spoletta hurries out with three policemen

Go,Tosca!

Now Scarpia digs a nest within your heart!

Go, Tosca. Scarpia now sets loose

The roaring falcon of your jealousy!

How great a promise in your quick suspicions!

Now Scarpia digs a nest within your heart!

Go, Tosca!

Scarpia kneels and prays as the Cardinal passes

CHORUS

Adjutorum nostrum in nomine Domini

Qui fecit coelum et terram

Sit nomen Domini benedictum

Et hoc nunc et usque in saeculum.

SCARPIA

My will takes aim now at a double target,

Nor is the rebel’s head the bigger prize …

Ah, to see the flame of those imperious eyes

Grow faint and languid with passion …

For him, the rope,

And for her, my arms …

CHORUS

Te Deum laudamus,

Te Deum confitemur!

SCARPIA

The sacred chant from the back of the church startles him, as though awakening him from a dream. He collects himself, makes the Sign of the Cross Tosca you make me forget God!

he kneels and prays devoutly

CHORUS, CHORUS

Te aeternum

Patrem omnis terra veneratur!

[Notes] [“Tosca is an opera in three acts by Giacomo Puccini to an Italian libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa. It premiered at the Teatro Costanzi in Rome on 14 January 1900. The work, based on Victorien Sardou’s 1887 French-language dramatic play, La Tosca, is a melodramatic piece set in Rome in June 1800, with the Kingdom of Naples’s control of Rome threatened by Napoleon’s invasion of Italy. It contains depictions of torture, murder, and suicide, as well as some of Puccini’s best-known lyrical arias.”]

[Note 3.] [ The dinner: Haute Cuisine Dinner Party Menu Inspired by Isaiah Jones versus the Sea (A 21st Century Odyssey)

Amuse-Bouche

-Cauliflower Steaks with Hazelnuts & Browned Butter

-A delicate seared cauliflower with browned butter sauce, garnished with crunchy hazelnuts and lemon zest. A perfect start to the evening.

First Course

-Seared Scallops and Baby Spinach with Spiced Pomegranate Glaze

-Pan-seared scallops served over a bed of fresh baby spinach, drizzled with a sweet and tangy pomegranate glaze.

Second Course

-Macaroni and Brie with Crab

-Decadent macaroni and cheese made with creamy Brie, succulent lump crabmeat, and a golden bread crumb topping.

Third Course

-Double-Smoked Salmon with Horseradish Cream

-Smoky salmon fillets, stuffed with horseradish cream, grilled to perfection with a second layer of hickory wood smoke.

Fourth Course

-Japanese Roast Chicken

-A classic roast chicken with a twist, seasoned with Japanese seven-spice, accompanied by baby carrots and bok choy sautéed in sesame oil.

Fifth Course

-Chicken and Roasted Red Pepper Roll-Ups

– Tender chicken breasts rolled with garlic-herb goat cheese, baby arugula, and roasted red peppers, finished with a dried-tomato pesto.

Sixth Course

-Pan-Seared Salmon with Tomato Pesto

-Fresh salmon fillets, pan-seared and served with a house-made tomato pesto, made with dried and fresh tomatoes, green olives, and basil.

Seventh Course

-Roast Duck with Blackberry-Orange Sauce

-Roasted duck paired with a vibrant blackberry-citrus sauce, served alongside roasted root vegetables.

Eighth Course

-Lamb Chops with Potatoes and Herb-Brown Butter Vinaigrette

-Succulent lamb chops served with crispy potatoes and a herb-brown butter vinaigrette, complemented by a spinach and mint salad.

Ninth Course

-Portobello Pot Roast

-A rich and hearty portobello mushroom roast, seasoned with fresh horseradish for a spicy kick.

Tenth Course

-Skirt Steak with Pineapple Salsa

-Tender skirt steak topped with a sweet and tangy pineapple salsa, served with homemade tortillas.

Eleventh Course

-Steamed Crab Legs

-Freshly steamed crab legs served with herb-infused butter, accompanied by a classic chopped salad and sourdough bread.

Twelfth Course

-Baked Eggplant Parmesan

-Lightly breaded eggplant slices baked to perfection, served with a rich marinara sauce and a side of classic zabaglione.

Thirteenth Course

-Noodle Bowl with Tofu and Poached Eggs

-A comforting bowl of noodles with marinated tofu, poached eggs, and fresh vegetables in a flavorful broth.

Fourteenth Course

-Godzilla Roll Sushi Bake

-A deconstructed sushi roll bake with shrimp, avocado, and spicy mayo, served with fresh cucumber, avocado, and nori squares.

Dessert

-Molten Chocolate Lava Cakes

-Rich chocolate cakes with a molten center, served warm and topped with vanilla bean ice cream.

Digestif

-Lemon Olive Oil Cake

-A moist and fragrant lemon olive oil cake, served with a drizzle of honey and a sprinkle of sea salt.

[Note 1][“The Nightingale of Kuala Lumpur, designed by Faisal Abdullah from the Jendela fashion house, is the world’s most expensive dress, valued at $30 million. Released in 2009, the crimson silk and taffeta gown is embellished with over 750 diamonds, totalling over 1,000 carats. Its centrepiece features a 70-carat pear-cut Belgian diamond by the jeweller Mouawad. Inspired by Hafiz’s poem “The Rose and the Nightingale,” the dress was unveiled at the STYLO Fashion Grand Prix Kuala Lumpur in 2009, modelled by actress Kavita Sidhu where she revealed the dress while the poem was recited.”]

[“Vanilla Crema Houndstooth Fabric Woven In France

Signature Notch Lapel Design

Single Button Closure

Mother Of Pearl With Gold Rim Buttons

Soft, natural shoulder construction

Chest Barchetta Pocket

Dual Vents

Patch Pockets

Handmade”]

About the author

JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals: Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, TX.