The Death Blog — Never Order the Special

This is the seventh installment in The Death Blog series.

Don’t Order the Special

Roberta Smitherman, 48, Suicide, Tuesday, 4:17 am

I’ve done enough culls in restaurants to already know better than to order the daily special. )Like .. ever. Don’t do it.) Still, even having seen what I’ve seen, this one left me avoiding food altogether for damn near a week.

Roberta and her husband, Monty, opened up a small diner 15 years ago. The diner became something of a personal refuge for Monty; something he could have complete control over in a world where felt he had no control. Under his watchful eye, the small diner turned into something of a neighborhood institution, and Monty began spending every free moment there. He’d come in at 4:30 every morning to give the place a solid cleaning, start-up all the ovens and griddles, measure out the coffee into filters, and generally just putter around.

He’d stay throughout the day and usually wouldn’t get home until after supper. Roberta had worked side by side with him for the first ten years until she realized he really didn’t need her there and that Monty seemed happier when he was alone. The small staff they employed all worked swing shifts and odd hours, leaving Monty to his own devices. Soon, the diner became Monty’s entire world — and…