The Gurry Room

By Drew Banton

Did you ever wonder what really goes into a can of cat food? Frank Parker, a mechanic in a fish processing plant, discovers that some knowledge can be hazardous to your health. This is a novella of approximately 30,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Banton
• Release date: Mar 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311327567

Drew Banton

Drew Banton has published novels, novellas and stories. He has had pieces appear in Event Horizon online magazine and Bicycling Magazine. He has worked as a printer, welder, auto mechanic, bicycle frame builder, industrial mechanic and manufacturing engineer. He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts. When not writing he can usually be found walking his dog or trying to keep up with his grandson.

Book preview

The Gurry Room

by

Drew Banton

The Industrial Strength Press

©Copyright 2015 Drew Banton

All Rights reserved

Smashwords edition

Also by Drew Banton:

A Dangerous Job

The Jack

e-mail: [e-mail]

web: The Industrial Strength Press

blog: The Industrial Strength Press | Author: Drew Banton

Authors Note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Start of Story

One Quarter Mark

One Half Mark

Three Quarters Mark

About the Author

My name is Frank and I’m not an alcoholic. Yeah, I drink a lot, that’s true. You would too if you were me. But to me an alcoholic is someone whose life has been really messed up by too much drinking. That is simply not the case with me. Yes, I’ve gotten divorced twice but those marriages didn’t break up over my drinking. In fact, they wouldn't have lasted nearly as long as they did if not for my drink of choice which happens to be Jack D. (Too syrupy for a lot of people but I always had a sweet tooth.) You see, I don't get abusive when I drink. I get relaxed and cheerful and, when I’ve really been drinking a lot, kind of goofy. I’m the most easy going guy you’d ever want to meet just before I pass out. And this is not just my own booze-induced judgment. Many people have told me the same thing. No, my wives got rid of me because of my lack of ambition. I was happy to be who I am. I think they might have been willing to put up with occasional bad behavior if it came from someone who was a success in business. Now, you’re probably assuming that I’ve been fired from a lot of jobs because of my drinking. Wrong again! I can honestly say that I’ve never once been fired because of alcohol related problems. Sure, I've been fired a few times, who hasn’t, but it’s always been over your normal workplace conflicts- arguments over whose fault the blown up transmission was, personality conflicts, that sort of thing. I always was on time and never took many sick days. Yes, I would go out and have a few at lunchtime but believe me, I was never alone. And now that I think about it, I never got fired in the afternoon. In any case, I think you see my point.

This story is about my most recent job in a fish factory. I’d been fixing cars for quite a few years and was sick of it. You won’t find many experienced mechanics who aren’t. The cars are getting more impossible to work on every year and the customers are getting less willing to accept that sometimes it takes two tries to get it right. My previous job hadn’t ended too well (that blown-up transmission I mentioned earlier) and I promised myself I wouldn’t answer any auto mechanic ads, at least until my money ran out. A mechanic never has trouble finding a job, I don’t care how many times he’s been fired. Somebody is always desperate enough to take a chance. But finding a good job, that’s a whole other matter. So once I started ignoring the car mechanic ads I noticed that there were ads for lots of other kinds of mechanics. Cars aren’t the only machines that break. I don’t know why this never occurred to me before. I guess that’s the sort of thing that can happen when you’re a creature of habit like me.

I started answering some of those other ads. I applied to be a maintenance mechanic in a hospital, an apartment complex, a bindery and a paper box factory. None of them automatically disqualified me because I had only done cars before but they must’ve found somebody more experienced in their particular field because I didn’t hear back from them. I didn’t take it personally. You take rejection on a job application personally and you'll be a real mess in no time. It’s business and you should take it that way. I’d always have to laugh at bosses who got mad when I’d quit to take a better job. As if they wouldn’t fire me in a minute if they didn’t like the work I did. It’s only business.

Over coffee one morning I noticed a small ad:

INDUSTRIAL MAINTENANCE. Person wanted for fish processing plant. Some experience pref., but will train mechanically inclined person. 617-588-4020.

Sounds like it was written for me, right? I called up, got directions, and took the subway over. It was down by the water, which is where you’d expect a fish processing plant to be but not near the fish pier, which surprised me a little. The building was cinderblock painted an awful yellow. No sign, just the address, in stick-on letters on the glass front door, 42 Heron St. I climbed a short flight of stairs to the offices. Two men, dressed in work clothes, wearing baseball caps, needing shaves, of some minority or other or maybe not, were leaning against a high counter, filling out applications. My competition. I didn’t hold it against them. Only business. A young woman with a long nose asked if she could help me.

I’m your new mechanic, I said. I’m not usually so bold but it just came out. I had a feeling that I was.

Perhaps. Would you please fill out this application?

I'd had a lot of recent practice so I whipped through it. The Previous Employment section was a blend of fact and fiction but the chances of them finding out were slim. All the phone numbers were for legitimate businesses and there would be friends of mine answering at the other end.

She took the application from me and glanced at the top line.

Thank you very much for coming in, Mr. Parker. Our Head of Maintenance will be looking at these and he’ll get back to you. You gave your home phone? Yes, I see you did. Thanks again.

She turned from the counter and went to a desk and sat down and began to type. That was that. The other two guys were still writing as I went down the stairs. Down on the street I stood for a minute and looked around. Gray day, might rain. Maybe I expected it or maybe it was really there but as I inhaled I thought I knew the flavor in the air. Fish.

* * *

Two weeks later. I had just finished filling out an application at a plastic bag company and went into a place for a beer to fortify myself for the ride home. I decided to call my sister to see if I'd gotten any messages. I live upstairs from her and her husband and her three kids in their in-law apartment which means they’d feel guilty about charging rent for so small a place if I wasn’t a relative. But it’s not so bad, really, I get along with them well enough, and my sister lets me give her phone number because I’m not home that much.

Frank, oh hi. Good you called. Some guy left a message, he sounded like he really wanted to talk to you. Pete something. I said you weren’t home and he said 'He didn’t get a job yet did he?' and when I said no he made a sound like he was relieved. So call him back. You got a pencil?

I borrowed one from the bartender. I had filled out so many applications that I didn’t know where I was calling. They answered their phone by telling you the number you had just dialed. I asked for Pete Altobelli.

Hold. A woman’s voice. I’m sorry Pete can’t come to the phone right now. May I ask who’s calling?

I told her.

Oh yes. He left a message. Could you come down this afternoon to speak with him?

I said I could but I needed directions.

She laughed and apologized for assuming I knew. The directions brought it back. Fish. And the voice had a long nose.

* * *

Stainless steel mesh conveyor belts make a racket. Pete had to shout so I could hear him. These are the breading lines! Everything that goes out of here is frozen! Portions, sticks, or over there we pack fillets into blocks! Cod and pollak, that’s ninety per cent of it! Let's go back to the maintenance shop!

We pushed our way through some long hanging strips of plastic into a corridor and the temperature rose twenty degrees.

Fifty degrees in there, year round. You come in from the outside today and it seems cool but if you go in there from the freezer, it feels warm. Here’s the shop.

He swung a plywood