Sploshing Discipline

"Hi! How can I help you?"

Candace usually got the bagel breakfast sandwich, but with five minutes until her shift started, she had to make an exception.

"I'd like a jelly doughnut," she said quickly, probably sounding ruder than she meant to. "Please."

"Okay! We have strawberry, blueberry, and -- "

"Strawberry."

She ate at a stoplight, devouring half the pastry in about five seconds. Before she could finish it, a clump of jelly fell on her chest.

"Fuck!" she said, frantically looking for napkins.

No luck.

It was high stakes, considering that Linda once sent her home with no pay when she had a centimeter-long coffee stain on her pants. This much mess could get her fired.

No job means no money. No money means no rent. Shit. Shit. Shit.

There was the blaring sound of two cars honking.

Her eyes flicked up. The light was green.

She sighed, and drove on. With one hand on the wheel, she grabbed the paper bag the doughnut came in and tried to rub off the jelly. But that only imprinted it wider and deeper in the fabric. She checked the clock.

9:20. Twenty minutes late.

Her heart pounded.

As soon as she got to the work building, she ran straight to the bathroom and tried her best to clean it off with the tools available -- water, hand soap, and paper towels.

With a great deal of effort, she managed to make it fade from red to pink.

Not good enough for Linda, she thought, panicking.

And sure enough, Candace opened the bathroom door to see her boss standing behind it with her arms crossed, her serpent eyes glaring at her.

As usual, Linda's blonde hair was tightly pulled back in a bun, and she wore a black bowtie.

Candace swallowed. By the look on Linda's face, she knew she was in trouble.

They stared at each other for a while, and a million thoughts raced through Candace's head.

Is she sending me home again? Will I lose that raise? Am I fired?

Eventually, Linda gave a long, heavy sigh, and said, "I'll see you in my office." Then she left, her high heels tapping through building.

Not good.

In her ten years of being a business-owner, Linda had seen it all. Candace was no anomaly. Hard-working, but irresponsible. Full of potential, but with no motivation to reach it. She knew the type.

On several occasions, Linda had even made a point to compliment her for a job well done. She'd thanked her when she did show up on time, and praised her on days that she kept her appearance tidy.

But this was the third day that week that Candace showed up late. And the fifth time her clothes had noticeable stains on them.

Clearly, positive reinforcement wasn't enough. She needed a new strategy. Something that would stick in Candace's mind for a long time, and ensure that she be more careful in the future.

I know just what to do.

Candace was about to lose her job. Or at least it felt like it.

The thought made her nauseous. She did not have enough in her bank account.

After inviting Candace to her office, Linda had gotten an important phone call and needed to leave the room. So now Candace was alone, with nothing to do but wonder what her fate was.

The sound of Linda's high heels tapping across the tile floor made her heart pound.

If Candace had to be honest with herself, she wasn't faultless for her job being in jeopardy. Every one of the days that she'd shown up late she could very well have gone to bed at a reasonable hour.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Her self-loathing monologue was interrupted by the sound of the office door opening. Linda took three more steps in those high heels to sit across from Candace.

Linda let out a breathy, performative sigh that irritated Candace.

"Sorry for leaving you here. I had to take care of something," she said in her superior tone that always got under Candace's skin.

"It's okay," said Candace, her voice shaking.

She waited for Linda to say something else, but for several seconds, she just stared at her. Candace felt like the smallest thing in the world.

"So," said Linda, "what's going on?"

Candace took a deep breath. "Well, um, I accidentally -- I mean... "

Shit. This is harder than I thought.

"I should have left sooner this morning. I should leave sooner in general, honestly. Because I keep showing up late. But I didn't know how much traffic there would be. But it's my fault. And it's not fair to you. And it's not fair to the restaurant, either." Candace's eyes fixed on her boss's facial expression, trying to determine whether she was sympathetic or not. But there was not clear indication either way.

Linda just gazed thoughtfully at her subordinate, before clicking a pen and jotting down something in her notebook.

Candace swallowed.

Still not saying a word, Linda dialed something into her phone and held it to her ear. "Hey, do you have it ready? Great. I'll open the door for you." She hung up, and propped the door open. Moments later, Dennis appeared.

He was the head chef -- and Linda's husband.

He was thin, with a small beard that never grew substantially. And he was about half a foot shorter and half a decade younger than her. It was well-known that she was the dominant one in their relationship.

Now he held a huge tray filled with Saran wrap covered dishes.

"You can set it right here," said Linda, tapping the table with her fingernails.

And so he did, giving Candace a chance to see the food up close. There was pulled turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, apple pie, and pumpkin pie. Leftovers from the Thanksgiving special a few days ago.

Are we... eating? That's a strange way to get reprimanded.

"Um, what are you using this for?" said Dennis. "If you don't mind my asking."

"As a matter of fact, I do mind your asking," said Linda resolutely.

Dennis seemed nervous. "Oh, sorry..."

"Don't be sorry," said Linda. "Go chop some onions for me. Before the lunch rush shows up."

"Okay, um... yeah. I'll do that," he said before awkwardly leaving.

Sighing for the third time, Linda shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Sorry about that," she said.

Candace didn't quite understand what Linda was sorry for, but knew better than to question it.

Linda began peeling the plastic wrap off the dishes, making a light crinkling sound as the aroma of almost-stale food filled the room.

"Did I ever tell you I used to smoke?" said Linda.

"Um... no, I don't think you did."

"They always tell you it's hard to quit. But I never really understood until I tried. And believe me, I tried everything."

With all the plastic stripped off, she stirred the cranberry sauce with a spoon, spreading its tart, fruity fragrance.

"Meditation, nicotine patches. I even tried replacing it with drinking. But none of it worked. No matter what I did, that urge was still there."

Candace felt her breath quicken. A drop of hot sweat trickled from her scalp to her neck, then all the way down her spine. She was scared, but could hardly understand why.

"I was ready to give up. I almost accepted that I'd be a smoker for the rest of my life." She used another spoon to toy with the mashed potatoes. "But then a coworker recommended a class. And thank God I went. First they made me smoke a whole pack in one sitting. Then they made me ash out the last cigarette in a class of water, and drink it. My stomach churned, and I threw up at least three times. Then guess what? I've never smoked since."

Candace had a hard time understanding what all this had to do with her, or what the food was for.

"Smoking was my bad habit. It wasn't until I gave myself too much of it that I could give it up. Funny how that works, huh?"

Candace gave a small, forced laugh.

"Your bad habit is showing up messy to work. Messy hair, messy clothes, messy everything. And every time you do that, you make my business look bad."

"I'm really sorry, Linda. I let you down. And I let the restaurant down. And most importantly, I let the customers down. I -- I'm really sorry, I swear. I promise it'll never happen again."

Linda gave a curt smile and said, "Oh, it won't. I'll make sure of it."

Candace looked confused for a second.

Linda added, "Are you ready to break your habit, Candace?"

"Yes. Yes. Definitely."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

She seemed pleased. "Good. Now put your hand in the cranberry sauce."

Candace's brow furrowed. She wondered if she'd heard that right.

Linda was adamant. "I'm not asking you again."

"Wait, so, you want me to put my hand, like... in the cranberry sauce."

"Mm hm."

This day is getting stranger and stranger. Candace tentatively put a few fingers of her right hand halfway into the cold, clumpy substance.

"All the way," said Linda, with uncompromising determination burning in her eyes.

Something about how emphatically Linda spoke made Candace obey immediately, submerging her entire hand in the bowl.

"Now your other one."

"Um, why do I --?"

"Because I said so."

Candace could tell she was serious. She took a deep breath, and put her left hand wrist-deep in the sauce, too.

Linda flashed a satisfied smile, seeing the red sliminess covering both her employee's palms and fingers.

Candace was thoroughly confused and humiliated already, and her boss could tell.

Well you better get used to it, honey, thought Linda. Because it's only going to get worse from here. "Use both hands to scoop up as much of the cranberry sauce as you can."

Candace did as she was told. A mess of thick, dripping sauce weighed on her palms and dripped down between her fingers.

"Now put that on your head."

Candace was completely taken aback. In response to her widened eyes, Linda simply said, "Yes."

Bewilderment and disgust took over Candace's headspace at the thought of what she was being asked to do. She had to say something, but words escaped.

"I -- look, I mean, I -- I can't do that."

Linda's head tilted to the side.

"You can't or you won't?"

"I -- I don't want to."

Linda sighed. "Well, of course you don't want to. But you showed up to work with a disgusting food stain on your shirt, and now you need to learn your lesson."

Candace still wasn't convinced.

Linda's look hardened. She lowered her voice and said, "Do you want to keep your job or not?"

Candace's eyes fixed on the sticky slop in her hands, then on the adamant expression on Linda's face. She had the distinct sense of being in school again, getting disciplined for misbehaving.

"No," she said quietly. "I don't want to lose my job."

"Then put the cranberry sauce on your head."

Candace swallowed. Seeing that she had no other options available, she rotated her hands over the top of her head, placing the slimy content squarely on top of her hair. It felt cold against her scalp.

Linda was pleased. "Now rub it into your hair." She made a gesture with her own hands.

Candace did as instructed, grimacing. There was a squishing sound as she delicately pressed against the sauce with her fingertips. She didn't want it embedded too fully, or else she'd never be clean. Her hope was to be able to swipe it off all at once later, and use a wet paper towel for whatever remained.

Linda was not impressed.

"Rub it in harder, or I'll rub it in for you," said Linda.

Candace's mind was on a loop. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

In spite of how gross it was, not disappointing her boss was paramount. She massaged the leftover sauce deeper into her hair, as though it were some high-quality shampoo. Its lumpy thickness becoming intertwined with every hair strand.

"That's a good girl," said Linda. Hearing those words sent shivers down Candace's spine. "Now put your hands back in the bowl, and put another scoop on your head."

"Okay," said Candace, like it was the most normal request she'd ever heard.

She stuck her hands back inside the cranberry sauce, and scooped yet more of it onto her head. No longer could she contain it to her hair, as wet cranberry chunks fell to her back, cheeks, and shoulders. Candace assumed that that would be the end of it.

"Now put another handful down your shirt."

"Um... Linda, is there anything else I could do to make things right? I know I messed up, but -- I mean, I'll do anything."

"Okay, that's it," said Linda, standing up and circling the table. She grabbed a handful of the cranberry sauce, pulled out Candace's shirt, and forcefully smeared it against her chest.

The gooey coldness made Candace yelp. "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

"Keep quiet, dear. I don't want you disrupting the kitchen staff."

"Right. Of course. I'm sorry, ma'am."

Then Linda put another handful of cranberry sauce down her shirt, spreading it across both her boobs, her ribs, and her stomach.

"Wait, Linda. I know you want to teach me a lesson, but I just bought this bra, and -- um, the shirts new, too, and like, I just don't think this is necessary."

Linda gave her famous sigh yet again, then walked across the room and opened a drawer next to her computer. She pulled out a white ball gag and a roll of duct tape, walked back, and said, "Open your mouth, dear."

Candace, a practicing Buddhist, believed that acceptance was the solution to suffering in life. And she did not want to suffer. Not saying a single word in protest, she dropped her jaw wide enough to allow Linda to fill it with the gag.

Tying it behind Candace's head, Linda said, "I'll take it from here, sweetie."

Next she held Candace's hands behind her, and exposed the loose end of the duct tape roll to her wrist.

There was the grating sound of the roll being extended, then Candace felt her wrists encircled in abrasive stickiness several times.

Linda said, "You've just started getting messy tonight, honey." With Candace's hands secured, she moved on to her upper highs -- which she bound to the chair.

"So, of course, I can't let you escape."

Candace's heart hadn't beat this rapidly in a long time. Linda tied her lower thighs next, just above her knees.

"But I do care about ethics, mind you."

Candace felt more trapped by the second.

"If you blink three times, I'll take out the gag, untie you, and let you clean up." A small, tentative calmness washed over her. "But if you make that choice, I'm going to have to fire you." The wisp of relief evaporated all at once. In its place was an electric panic that shook her to her core.

Come on, deep breaths Candace. Acceptance, remember?

"Nod if you understand."

She blinked hard once, dreading the incoming torment, and then she nodded.

Linda was ecstatic. "Good. We're gonna have a lot of fun today. You better brace yourself, babygirl."

Seconds later, she took a fistful of mashed potatoes, and smashed it across Candace's face. And then another handful. It was a chunky, mushy and repulsively cold.

"Close your eyes, honey. I don't want this to sting." She proceeded it to smear it over Candace's eyelids.

With her employee effectively blindfolded, Linda proceeded to pull back her shirt again and pour gravy over her chest. She poured more on her thighs.

The buttery, savory, and fruity smells were combining.

When her legs were fairly drenched, she dumped the rest over Candace's head. Thick, brown coldness fell down her back, torso, and shoulders.

Candace felt helpless, inappropriate, and ridiculous.

She had an urge to shake off the mess, but knew that rudely dirtying Linda's office like that would only get her in more trouble.

"You know what goes great with gravy?"

She stared at Candace like that was her cue to say something. But of course they both knew fully well she couldn't talk.

"Stuffing." Linda took two handfuls of stuffing, and stuck it to the back of Candace's head. She ruthlessly mixed it with the gravy and cranberry sauce. Then she added more to Candace's legs.

Candace reflexively pushed against the bondage in vain. The idea crossed her mind to just blink three times.

No. If you opt out, your whole life is ruined. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

"Oh, by the way... are you wearing underwear today?"

Candace nodded.

"Good. I'd hate for you to get a yeast infection." Linda pulled out Candace's pants, took two more handfuls of mashed potatoes, and smeared it around her panties.

Maybe Linda wouldn't believe this, but Candace liked staying clean quite a bit. She was as unhappy about showing up to work with food stains as anybody. But life had just hectic, so she hadn't slept well lately. On top of that, she was a naturally clumsy person.

Maybe if she'd mentioned all that to Candace, she wouldn't have to undergo this.

Oh, well. It's a little late to speak up now.

Her breaths came faster, pushing saliva around the sides of the ball gag. The drool dripped down and added to the mess.

"Oh my! There's still so much cranberry sauce left. I'm going to have to get rid of that."

She mercilessly put handful after handful on Candace. She saturated her head, her neck, back, arms, and legs.

Some part of Candace had clung to a hope that she'd have a modicum of cleanliness might be salvaged. But now there wasn't a solitary square inch let, so she had to let that part of herself go and mentally surrender to her predicament.

Lina was generous enough to wipe away the clumps of gross mess in front of Candace's eyes. Candace regained her sight for the first time in a while, and saw Linda pick up the apple pie.

She could still blink.

I've already come this far. Don't back out now.

Linda flung the pie in Candace's face, and spread its filling in a circular motion that included Candace's chin, cheeks, and forehead, then another circle covering the top of her hair and both ears. It felt gooey and crumbly and artificial.

The sounds of conversations, footsteps, sizzling food, and pots and pans being shifted around echoed from the kitchen.

We must be getting busy, thought Candace.

Linda paid no attention to it.

The pumpkin pie came next. Linda smashed the cool orange mush across all of Candace's hair and shoulders. This one at least smelled appetizing, but she had no way of eating it.

Candace was trying and failing to relax under the bombardment of textures.

Deep breaths, Candace.

"You know what, Candace? I am so silly. Here I am putting a whole Thanksgiving feast right on top of you, and I didn't even use the most important dish in all of Thanksgiving."

Giggling evilly, she took two large handfuls of slice turkey breast and shoved it down Candace's shirt. The disgust in Candace's eyes absolutely delighted her.

"Awww, you poor baby," said Linda. "Facing the consequences for your actions isn't so fun, is it?"

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Linda ran her hands along Candace's arms, neck, and chest, swirling the gravy, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and stuffing all together. The resulting mixture was unrecognizable in texture and smell. She began laughing maniacally, leaving trails between the viscous mess with her fingertips. "You know what I think?" said Linda.

Knowing it would be inappropriate for her to not respond to her boss, Candace politely said, "What?" (All that came out through the ball gag was "Mufff?")

"I think that no Thanksgiving dinner is complete without ice cream."

Candace's eyes widened. Her shock was twofold: 1. That is not a true statement about Thanksgiving dinners. 2. Linda is implying that she is about to dump melted ice cream on her.

She moaned in protest.

"I don't need that attitude, honey. You already know the rules. Blink three times to opt out. And if so, I fire you."

Candace's desperation to survive compelled her to make a concerted effort not to blink.

Linda grinned excitedly. "That's what I figured. Keeping your job is one hell of an incentive." And with that, she left the room, and came back with one gallon of ice cream at a time. The first was vanilla, the second was chocolate, and the third was strawberry.