Mahalo King Cod Filet

Submitted for Contest #66 in response to: Write about a character who’s finally on
the verge of achieving their lifelong dream.... view prompt

David Gottfried
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237 likes 110 comments

Nov 02, 2020

AMERICAN CONTEMPORARY ADVENTURE

A slate-grey sky hung heavy over the President James K. Polk Memorial rest area on
Interstate 64 in southern Indiana. At the fueling station, eighteen wheelers lined
up under bright green lights for diesel and windshield wiper fluid from an army of
apathetic attendants. A mother carrying a styrofoam coffee cup emerged from the
Kwik Mart, pulling the collar of her neon pink and light purple ski jacket tight
around her neck with her free hand and hurrying her two children across the broad
expanse of cracked tarmac. A grove of oak trees, damp brown and bare of leaves for
months now, peaked above the domed roof of the food court. At the far end of the
parking lot, a mountain of exhaust-stained snow towered precariously over a red and
yellow dumpster belonging to Solid Waste Disposition Incorporated, Akron, OH. A
cacophony of colors and commotion.

Frank eased his Kia into a parking spot and surveyed the scene. He was not like the
rest of them, hustling to-and-fro on their way to somewhere else, to grandma’s
house for Christmas, perhaps, or home after a work trip in Louisville or Wheeling
or Pittsburgh. No. For Frank J. Marone, the President James K. Polk Memorial rest
area was the destination.

In front of him, a fifty-foot steel pole held aloft the black and red cowboy hat
signage of the Arby’s Corporation, the curved lines of the double-peaked crown and
round brim glowed a warm red against the cold of the December day.

He picked up his phone, smiled, stuck his thumb up, and snapped a selfie. Below the
image, he typed, “It’s been twelve years since I started this journey. At last, I
come face to face with my white whale (or is it a cod?).” He sent it off to his
forty-eight thousand-plus followers and then scrolled through his timeline. Back to
the beginning, to 2009, the Roy Rogers outside of Toms River that still served the
Cordon Bleu Gold, discontinued nationally in 2005. That one had been pretty easy.
Just a quick jaunt down the Garden State Parkway. There and back in a short
afternoon. Number nine on the list: the McSalmon Fritters, which he'd found at a
barely functioning McDonalds outside of Homer, Alaska. That one had required more
doing, an online fundraiser and a series of puddle jumpers.

It had started as a lark, the quest for obscure and discontinued fast food items.
Something to do. To pass the time. Shits and giggles. After he'd crossed number
five or six off the list of twenty-five sandwiches and tenders and salad shakers,
though, the quest had taken over his life, become his identity.

Frank set the phone back down on the passenger seat and watched it buzz and ding
with congratulatory missives. In front of the Arby’s, a man shuffled back and forth
and spoke to himself angrily, a burned-to-the-filter cigarette hanging from the
corner of his mouth.

Frank was there to meet a man about a sandwich. Gordon Warmbacher, franchisee of
sixteen Arby’s restaurants across the upper Midwest and Great Plains, about the
legendary Mahalo King Cod Filet, to be precise. The Mahalo King was the last on his
list that included the KFC Turkey Tender, the Burger King Ostrich Deluxe, and Taco
Bell’s Cool Ranch Gator Taco, served exclusively in Louisiana and the Florida
Panhandle. He had dedicated the last twelve years of his life to tracking these
items down and reviewing them for his ever-increasing number of social media fans
and fast food aficionados.

Of all the items on the list, the Mahalo King Cod Filet had proven to be the most
elusive. Introduced by the Arby’s Corporation at select stores in 2006, sales had
badly underperformed expectations. Reviews were initially poor. People had mocked
the incongruity of a New England fish served Hawaiian style. The pineapple slices
that sat atop the deep-fried filet smothered in traditional Hawaiian huli-huli
sauce would, if left for even a few minutes, soak through the sesame seed bun,
leaving it soggy and difficult to pick up. Sales of the sandwich were discontinued
after only four months, but it had become something of a cult favorite, with a
small but devoted fan club dedicated to getting it back on the menu.

There had been tips. Whispers and rumors of rogue Arby's restaurants still serving
the sandwich. Frank had followed one dead end lead after another for nearly a year
and a half and had been on the brink of giving up when he received a cryptic Direct
Message from Gordon. It could be arranged, Gordon said, but Frank would need to be
discreet. Details needed to be omitted, a certain degree of anonymity required.
Gordon had a lot on the line.