Winner of Our Vintage Photo Fiction Writing Prompt Contest!

A vintage photo showing two men having tea with an elephant

We want to thank everyone who took an interest in last week’s short story competition! We had some very creative entries that explained how and why there came to be an elephant in such a classy establishment. Stories ranged from circus performers to the physical manifestation of the idiom, “the elephant in the room,” representing a problem that no one wants to discuss.

But our winner this week brought our poor little elephant to center stage as he gets a shot as some very unlikely employment. Congratulations goes out to Sharon Oubrar! Thanks for your entry Sharon!

Writers were asked to give a story behind the above photo from 1939. Check out the winning entry below!

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Time for Tea

By Sharon Oubrar

Felix needed a job. At first I did not think that he would make a very good waiter, so I put him in the back of the house doing dishes. He didn’t seem to mind. The man showed up to work every day on time and never complained. It seemed like the perfect match.
It happened one day, though, that our normal waitress, Raeleen, did not show up for work. It was the weekend and we were due a packed house. The only choice I had was to send him out to serve. I couldn’t be in the kitchen cooking and out front serving at the same time, The dishes could wait or I could run back and send a few of them through the machine from time to time.

At first, the guests eyed him with a sense of discomfort, perhaps even a bit of fear but they all stayed for the gumbo special. Best gumbo in town if I do say so myself.

I was back in the kitchen toiling away over a big pot of the magical stew, hoping that Felix’ appearance didn’t scare them too much. The tickets just kept coming in, for gumbo, for sandwiches, and salads. It was hard to read what he wrote but I managed.

All of a sudden I heard laughter coming from the dining room. I ran out front to see what was happening. Felix had told a joke. The disaster I had envisioned was non-existent. The guests were just watching him. He walked back to the service window and grabbed all of the plates I had just put there. Felix walked, no danced, it seemed, from table to table laying the plates in front of the smiling guests, occasionally singing in a entrancing baritone, songs that were familiar to everyone there, but no one quite knew.

This would only happen in New Orleans. Perhaps the guests thought that Felix was merely a man in costume. Maybe they were just enchanted by the songs he was singing. I just smiled and saluted the man and returned to the kitchen thinking that his pocket would certainly be full of tips at days end.

Raeleen came back the next day with a tired excuse for why she didn’t show. I offered her Felix’ slot in the dish room. She stormed out the front door, slamming it so hard she nearly shattered the glass. Felix is still here, waiting tables. The regulars love him. The tourists just come in for the novelty but we just do not care why they come, just so they do.

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For those of you who missed out on last week’s contest, check out our current active contest or sign up for our newsletter to get the latest in news and updates.