Stuck In An Elevator With Haystacks

by michaelcahill

Stuck in an elevator Contest Winner

I have to tell you, for an Irishman, I do have a helluva lot of luck come my way. It's uncanny the sheer volume of luck that befalls me. The phrase, "Luck of the Irish" had to be coined with me in mind. I just wish that someone had thought to insert the word "good" or even a phrase like, "fair to middlin" in that old cliché.

With that in mind, being stuck in an elevator shouldn't be all that traumatic an event. Sure, we've all seen the lame sci fi concoctions where one of the occupants is an alien or a ghoul of some kind. But, that is made up malarkey just to entertain us. Normally a stuck elevator gets unstuck in a timely manner.

I guess that is what makes my tale a bit unusual. First of all, most stuck-in-an-elevator tales are actually people in an elevator that is stuck. They are not stuck, the elevator is stuck. There is a difference. My tale is actually about me being stuck in an elevator. The elevator I was stuck in could go up and down just fine, the light worked, the phone worked, all the buttons worked, even the door whooshed open when it came to a floor. I just couldn't get out. Yep, I was stuck.

I was the third passenger in the elevator. First was the Reverend O'Shaunessey. He had given last rites to old lady Conifer, who refused to die in spite of his good intentions. Next in was Agapito Valenzuela with a three-tier food cart. It was packed full with the meals for the fourth floor ICU ward. Third was myself, Liam Sonny O'Day, on my way home from visiting my second wife, and mother of my three daughters. We were twice divorced, most recently for six years. That's another story and it doesn't involve any elevators, although there is an amusing escalator story.

The fourth passenger is the one that caused the problem. His name was Heinous "Haystacks" Hepplewhite. Now, Haystacks, as everyone called him, acquired that moniker by resembling several bales of hay, loosely stacked, one on top of the other. He weighed in at eight hundred and sixty-seven pounds at last weigh in. That was on the way to the hospital at a truck scale. The transport had been weighed prior to picking him up, and then with him aboard on the return trip. Supposedly, he had been on a strict diet, but he looked the same to everyone there.

It was a tight squeeze, but he did manage to pour himself into the elevator. He faced the food cart with me and Agapito behind it. To the rear of the cart was the Reverend. Haystacks belly was right against the food cart without an inch to spare. So, we were all in, and the elevator, in spite of some ominous creaking noises, was on its way to the ground floor.

It was a mistake to put a layer of warm food at the level of Haystack's face. He didn't last a floor before he started eating meals. "Put it one my tab", he mumbled as he voraciously downed plate after plate. It sounded like a sty of pigs that had been abandoned, suddenly given unlimited amounts of pop-tarts, but with more noise and less dignity. None of us could wait to get to the first floor. Well, Haystacks was in no hurry. He had the whole top row emptied by the time we hit the first floor.

The elevator doors whooshed open and Haystacks said, "Well, it was nice, but." He then did... nothing. It appeared he was trying to move, but nothing seemed to be cooperating. He could only move his hands and arms from the elbows forward. Everything else just jiggled a bit. His body reacted like the jello squares he was eating did when bumped, it just kind of vibrated. He could still eat, and continued to do so.

He looked defiant. It was hard to tell if he was smiling or snarling. His mouth kept churning, opening and almost closing. The stains on his white tee shirt looked like a caricature of Jay Leno until he ate the special Kosher meal for Sid Langston. That changed the image and made it look more like former President, Howard Taft. Not many remember what he looked like. He was a large man, but not as large as Haystacks.

Haystacks repeated his line, "Well it was nice... but... hells bells on a welcome wagon. I think I'm stuck."

He continued to eat as he reflected on the situation.

"Perhaps one of you should get out first, I seem to be stuck." Haystacks was difficult to understand with a jello and mash potatoes combination in his mouth. I think it had to do with both dishes being made from a box. I decided to take him up on his offer, which seemed to entail me getting out of the elevator first. That suited me just fine.

I couldn't move. The cart had me and Agapito pinned up against the wall. The Reverend was pinned up against the back wall. Our only hope was for Haystacks to squeeze out.

I got angry. "Dammit, you ate enough in three minutes to get too fat to get out of the damn elevator. And, you're still eating. Stop already! Stop eating. Are you insane? We're all stuck in here because of you."

"Hey, look buddy. I've been made fun of and called names all my life. I don't need your judgment. I like myself just the way I am. You aren't going to ruin my self-esteem."

"Self-esteem? Ha! You aren't only eating yourself to death, you're committing eating one. Eating homicide. Felony eating. Eating a fellow human being to death. Christ! I don't know what I'm saying. Stop eating for Christ's sake or we'll never get out of here. God. I can still here you grunting and slurping. You're still eating aren't you. I can feel the pressure building on my chest. How bout you, Agapito, can you feel it?"

I looked over at Agapito. He was passed out, but still breathing. I was furious. "Damn it your are killing him. He's unconscious. Stop, before he dies!"

A crowd had formed by now and found the scene highly amusing. A couple people thought it would be a big kick to offer Haystacks a couple chili dogs. There had been an article in the local paper about Haystacks and his love of chili dogs. He took them and downed them in one bite.

I screamed at the two teenage boys. "Hey, this is no joke, we're stuck in here. This is life and death. Get us some help."

What was funny about that, I don't know, but the crowd burst into laughter. Someone shouted out, "Let's see how many he can eat!" Another one joined in, "Yeah, I bet he can eat a hundred. Let's get some food over here. Let’s see what he can do."

I looked over at Agapito. He was dead. He was overweight himself, nothing like Haystacks, just overweight. That is what ultimately saved my life. His extra bulk provided enough cushion to keep the food cart from crushing me. The Reverend was safe. He was just stuck.

By now, the crowd was completely in to it. "Eat! Eat! Eat!" And, Haystacks ate. It wasn't long before Haystacks began to empty some of the mass quantities he had been consuming. I thought I had noticed a foul odor, but wasn't sure if it was all the food or something else. It was something else. Haystacks was dumping it out now as fast as he was shoveling it in. Something unpleasant happened to it as it made its way through his digestive tract. The stench was over powering in that confined place. The sound was something like a tuba full of oatmeal, if you can imagine what that might sound like.

The crowd simply backed up, unless they were bringing him food. They would hold their noses and rush forward with whatever they had. Invariably, they would burst out laughing and get a whiff of it. It was hilarious to them, because they could get downwind of it in a few seconds. It didn't rank high on my amusement scale. Agapito didn't have it on his list of worries. The Reverend was praying non-stop, about what I couldn't say, but it sounded sincere.

Finally, the fun came to an end. Haystacks went limp. He stopped breathing. The crowd took a minute or two to quiet down, but before long, there was nothing but silence. The only sound was the excess gas inside of Haystacks continuing to escape.

A young man about fifteen commented in the silence, "Wow, people still fart when they're dead, makes you think." Judging by the silence, I guess he was right.

Someone called the paramedics and fire department. Within another five minutes, they were on the scene. They determined that they would attempt to cut through the cart. That didn't work. It became too hot and began to burn me quickly. After much deliberation, they concluded that they would have to cut Haystacks out of the elevator. They evacuated the crowd and that is what they did. I'll spare you the details. I hope you can imagine. That is the least you can do since I had to experience it from two feet away.

I arrived home that evening disheveled and tired. My wife, the third one, greeted me with an unfriendly hello and a narrowed gaze.

She said, "Where the hell have you been? You're two hours late."

"I got stuck in an elevator."

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Writing Prompt
Write a short story. The topic is: Stuck in an elevator!