Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: TASTE (07/01/21)
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TITLE: De Gustibus non est Disputandem | Previous Challenge Entry
By Kenneth Bridge
07/08/21 -
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His wrists were impeccably cuffed, starched, white, fastened with perfectly proportioned black and gold links. His hair was perfectly coifed, salt and pepper with pepper predominating. It was a work of art, surely conjured up complete; no grooming tools known to man could render such a result.
His eyes were dark as night, fathomless in their depths. They surveyed the room calmly, then settled on me. I shuddered involuntarily. How and why did I attract the attention of this newcomer to our town? Little was known of him, and what was ventured was heavily weighted by speculation. That he was enormously wealthy seemed evident by his tastes, refined but in no way ostentatious.
“Lucius Adams,” he introduced himself to me with his hand stretched out. I took it in mine and noted that his grip was strong but not crushing, and that it lasted the socially perfect amount of time.
“So you’re new here,” was my gambit. Immediately my face flushed. What a stupid thing to say1 Though naturally an introvert, I have grown confident in the niceties of polite interaction. My calling as a Pastor forced me to grow that way. And now, in the presence of this man, I was as bad as a socially awkward teenager adrift on an unknown sea of expectations.
Lucius seemed not to notice. Gaucherie was beneath him. We were standing by the hors d’oeurvres table. I was dipping a cracker in some mint and pepper concoction. He gently and smoothly balanced a chunk of cheese on a wheat cracker and with a spoon, added a dollop of horseradish.
“Not caviar”, he said with a conspiratorial wink, “but good nonetheless. An educated palate knows how to derive the pure pleasures of this sensual life, even if the chefs are sub par.”
“Not all that is savory is salutary for us.” I inwardly winced at my mild rebuke but he showed no signs of being offended.
“De gustibus non est disputandem,” he replied. “We shouldn’t judge another’s taste.”
“I won’t argue, although I think that there are some things that, for our own sake we should prize, and others avoid.”
“So what sort of taste do you put at the top?” His smile was still friendly, but there was ice in those deep black eyes.
“Taste and see that the LORD is good!” I said with unexpected boldness.
In an instant the urbane civility vanished. His lips curled back to reveal sharp canines, more fangs than teeth. The black eyes retreated into thin black slits in blood red eyes. His nostrils flared and his tongue darted about, a serpent searching out prey. He vomited out a string of profanity and blasphemy that would make the most profane sailor’s ears tingle, then spun around and stomped his foot. The entire room shook as if a hurricane was beating down the walls and then it was suddenly very quiet. Lucius was nowhere to be seen.
“Is he gone?” someone asked.
“For now,” I said, “his tastes and ours don’t coincide, but he’ll be looking to return at a more opportune time.”
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