The Ordeal: Day One:

Today is lovely, and the sun, warming the verdant fruit of the earth, does also warm the minds and souls of men, who have chosen to spend this slow, Louisiana afternoon sipping the fragrant brew of café au lait at the most popular café in town. Indeed, my mind, yea my very psyche, is stimulated, for I am currently engaging in some quite spirited intellectual, philosophical, theological, scientific, and pneumismatic debate and discussion with some of the most talented minds in the parish.
       Ah, indeed! Here comes the older gentleman who is affectionately known locally as "The Oracle," for reasons of which I am currently unaware. A former college professor, this gentleman, a bit older than my current colleagues, is, to be frank, known as one who enjoys to bavarder, as it were, and so I eagerly anticipate his input into the current outrageous debate -- a disagreement as to whether Milton's Eve serves to substantiate the very concept of Eveness, as a ubiquitous, effigaic literary form, or whether, indeed, sausage is best.
       The gentleman has obtained his café, and now has sat down with the meeting of the minds. Ah, positively charming! He speaks now of his son, who apparently has done quite well in the world. Having attended a university in a neighboring state, this son is apparently quite the world traveler. Ah, I could listen to these charming familial tales for hours on end! A charming afternoon indeed…
       …goodness, the gentleman does enjoy the chatter! Ah, all well then, for is it not the duty of the young to respect our elders, and to humor them in their elderly quirks and idiosyncrasies? This gentleman has been speaking of his son for….approximately three hours now. Ah well then, perhaps if one of my younger fellows, peers as it were, would be so audacious as to speak for this long, uninterrupted, clearly chairing the floor with his self-imposed will, then I would become angry, but again, deference to elders is the way.
       Night falls now. The sullen darkness has overtaken the Sun's brilliance, and I gaze longingly at the world outside. I think of home…the comforts there. My dog awaits me, lying faithfully on my bed. Tonight is laundry night. Indeed, this older gentleman is imposing upon our politeness a great deal!

Day Two:
The man has been talking for 24 hours now. And when I say that he has been talking, I sincerely mean that he has not ceased. I am not speaking allegorically, or metaphorically. Our politeness has almost reached an end, yet still, it is impossible to see a way to escape. The man has the escape route blocked, and one would have to pounce upon him and tackle him…alas, that is my hunger speaking. Surely I would not do such a disservice to an elder.
       The employees have shown us great kindness, flipping the chairs and cleaning the café around us, apparently afraid, as are we, to dare interrupt the speech about the gentleman's son. I feel that I know the cursed son's life story by heart now, and could recite it completely. How shall I suggest to the gentleman that I must go home now, to eat, to shower, to attend to my toiletries, and to prepare for work?

Day Three:
This cannot be. He is still talking. We all grow hungry and thirsty. Our coffee is long gone, and we have no way to signal the employees that we require food and water. One of us attempted to crudely stomp out a plea for help in Morse Code with his sandal, but the employees assumed that he was merely stomping out the beat of the Muzak. A valiant effort, my friend. I am attempting to devise an escape plan, or at least a communication with the employees in order to effect our escape. Still he talks!
       Alright then, I have devised a plan. Having studied Semaphore Code extensively in my youth, I have torn and created Semaphore flags from my napkin! Brilliant! I am now waving the flags to the employees, spelling out, "Please help us! We need food and water!" I believe my plan is working!
…unfortunately, the Semaphore attempt reminded the old man of a story about his son's stint in the Navy…mercy be kind to us…

Day Four:
Still, the beast has not stopped talking. Any semblance of etiquette or politeness has been exchanged for the mere notion of survival. There simply must be a way of escape from this verbal torment! Another of my colleagues has attempted to create a diversion. He, using the very last bit of strength from his poor, malnourished body -- not having eaten or drunk now in four days -- attempted to create a diversion by toppling his table and running, but, alas, did not have the strength. My poor friend passed from this world. We shall miss him.
       Now, the old codger has drawn blood. This is war! There is only one way to stop the beast, and that is, unfortunately, to fight fire with fire. I fear that I shall have to kill him. The poor old man…I suppose that he never meant to harm us, but apparently is blackened and rotted by an insidious disease, a need to talk which consumes his very immortal soul! I shall have to free that wretched soul from his mortal body, and I know of no better way to do so than to strangle him with a cord, woven from the newspaper…I shall return with a report of the attempt…
       …ah, by the mercies of heaven, how could I have conceived of such an evil plan? I could never take another human life…but alas, surely my starving brain is consumed in a mad fever! What shall I do? Fie! Fie! night calls again!

Day Five:
Still, the incubus has not ceased from his parlance. The monster still speaks! He still speaks of his son! All but two of us now have succumbed to the dreaded malaria, and one has gone the way of starvation….alas, only two remain, and I fear that I am the strongest…my poor companion shows signs of scurvy, not to mention thirst and starvation…I fear that he cannot last much longer…yet still, the old man thrives…he THRIVES I say! Demon from the depths, he is not mortal! He is….I cannot waste the energy…my companion has died…now only I remain…

Day Six:

       …can…barely…speak….am...dying…still…still…I…say…he…talks…cannot….bear…life….must……take…life…must…kill…listen to me…I am using the last bit of my human mortal strength to write to you, dear reader…do not speak to this man under any circumstances…he is evil…a veritable demon…he will not cease…I cannot bear another story of his son…have not eaten…in…six days…can…see…own…ribs…desire…death…am fading…fading…fad…