Kitchen Life: Enter the Dish Pig

While Matt was busy insuring that FNG had set up his station well enough to get through lunch, a strange and somewhat odd looking figure entered the kitchen.

He stood 6’ 2” and appeared roughly to be 200 pounds. His black uniform was matched by his black mask. FNG happened to look up from his station to see this rather strange sight. He quietly contemplated whether or not he made a good choice his job selection.

“Hey Dish Pig! How are you today?” Shaun asked.

“I am Fine. Thank you for Asking!” Dish Pig answered. His Politeness was enough to make FNG question Dish Pigs motives.

“Catch any criminals last night?” Shaun asked. His sarcasm was as subtle as a swan dive that took a wrong turn to a belly flop.

“None. It seems that crime took the night off. It's all greek to me, I mean I do not understand. How could criminals just let a city alone, it just does not add up.” Dish Pig was sure that a criminal syndicate somewhere in the city was planning an attack of epic proportions.

“Don't worry, maybe tonight will be the night!” Van encouraged. Dish Pig also wasn’t fluent in any other language thus his words were lost to Dish Pig.

“Excuse me? I did not quite catch that.” Dish Pig said. His voice trying to strike fear into the heart of Van Couver.

Van slapped his forehead out of frustration and retorted, “Never mind. Fucking people, I mean why can't why all just speak one language?” Van’s physical actions were comical even though he was being serious.

Dish Pig leaned into Shaun and whispered, “What is he saying? I never have trusted him. He is quite shady, perhaps I shall keep my watchful eye upon that foreigner.”

“Do whatever you think is necessary.” Shaun replied. His focus was more on not losing a finger while he was cutting carrots for stock rather then on the antics of Van and Dish Pig.

Dish Pig patted Shaun on the back and said, “Indeed, my young friend. And rest assure that under this mask is someone who cares for the whole of humanity! Now...” Dish Pig raised his right arm and extended his index finger. “TO THE DISH PIT!”

Maggie entered the kitchen just as Dish Pig made his bold exclamation and said, “Hey Dish Pig, your looking good today! Have you been working out?”

Dish Pig lowered his arm and struck a heroic pose. “Why, yes. I have. Thank you for noticing, you charming young lass, but now I must fight the one true nemesis I have here. It is time to free all those poor and helpless dishes break free from the evil clutches of GREASE AND GRIM! For I am the advent of cleanliness! I am DISH PIG!!!” Dish Pig dashed off to save the poor helpless dishes.

***

INTERLUDE: Dish Pig’s Story.

Six months ago in a kitchen south east of the Cheshire. The hero known as the Dish Pig was a short order cook. He wasn’t always a hero, at times he was right down ridiculous.

To give you an example, two days before this interlude occurs, the Dish Pig had accidentally aided a robbery. Yes, even heroes are prone to make mistakes.

The events that took place are as follows:

The night was cool and Dish Pig had just gotten off shift. He (in these days, he was known as Donnie) was walking home and saw a masked man and a old lady with a walker having an epic battle over a hand bag.

As any good citizen would do, Dish Pig went to save the day. Unfortunately Dish Pig got bested by the masked man and he forcefully took the bag from the old lady with the walker and handed it gently handed it to the masked man. The masked man then sprinted away laughing as Dish Pig faced the wrath of the old lady with the walker.

This day however was not like his earlier misadventure. It was a completely different misadventure.

Dish Pig worked over the flat-top. Quesadillas and philly beef sandwiches were his specialty. After he finished cooking the pub slop, he began to clean the grill using the prescribed cleaning solution. Suddenly a bunch of steam rose from the grill and hit him in the face! Dish Pig backed away from the flat-top held his face and fell to his knees.

“NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Dish Pig wailed. His cry was loud enough to turn the heads of all the patrons in the dingy little pub.

As Dish Pig was convulsing on the floor two of his fellow cooks enter the kitchen to start their shift. Their mild and crude conversation ended abruptly as they see Dish Pig on the floor.

The first cook to enter the kitchen turned to the second cook to enter the kitchen and asks, “What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know.” The second cook replies. After this short exchange they both leaned against the counter to watch and figure out what exactly was going on.

Dish Pig felt every nerve of his being change and transform into something not quite human as he flopped around on the ground. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull, his teeth clenched, and then it was all over. Dish Pig lay on the ground. Still as someone that had just dropped dead of a heart attack.

Cook one with about as much enthusiasm and exuberance of a rock asked, “Is he dead?”

“How should I know? Go poke him in the ribs, or something.” The second cook replied.

Cook one was bewildered at the mere thought and said, “Fuck that! If he is dead, then it will look like I killed him!”

“Fine you big puss, I’ll do it.” The second cook responded.

He grabbed the fryer poker that was on the counter behind him and slowly walked over to Dish Pig. He then gently poked him in the back once, Dish Pig didn’t move. He poked him again a few more times, yet still no response. The second cook went to poke him once more, but just then, Dish Pig got up slowly to his knees, then he stood up.

“I AM...” Dish Pig started, but then pause for dramatic effect as he turned around. “A SUPER HERO!!!” Dish Pig finished. This again was enough to turn the heads of the slum that inhabited the pub south east of the Cheshire.

***

Kitchen Life: Ice Mix & Fish

“Welcome back FNG.” Jake said.

FNG nodded and turned towards Matt.

“Hey Matt, um, they said they don't carry ice mix.” FNG said barely audible.

“I know they don’t.” Matt replied. He was walking away to grabbed the clip board to start his line check. FNG followed closely behind him.

“What! You knew that they don’t carry it and you sent me to the store for it! Why?” FNG exasperated.

“Because it’s a running joke. Kind of a initiation to the kitchen. Don’t worry, Frank got pretty pissed about it and that makes me happy.” Matt gleamed.

“I'm not going to get written up, am I?” FNG asked. The sheer look of terror on his face was almost enough to make Matt burst out laughing.

Matt contained his laughter and simply stated, “No, if anything I would be written up.”

Matt’s reassurance didn’t seem to help FNG much. The fear seemed to subside in FNG’s eyes only to be replaced with confusion.

“Why would you be...” FNG started.

“Because I sent the kid I’m suppose to train to the store for a nonexistent product. Look, don't worry about it. Just go back to your station, were almost open.” Matt interrupted.

“Okay.” FNG agreed. He made his way to the fryer station and looked around nervous as if some sort of evil impending doom were to happen at any moment. ‘I feel out of place. I wonder if this fryer basket feels as out of place as I do...’ FNG pondered.

Maggie entered the kitchen and leaned against the patty cooler. She had one thing on her mind...

“Matty. Do you want to make me something to eat?” Maggie whined.

“Not really.” Matt stated.

“Oh come on.” Maggie pressed further.

Matt set down the spatula he was holding, turned to Maggie and said, “I told you Maggie, your not my type. Besides I thought girls didn't like that kind of thing.”

“What thing?” Maggie questioned.

“Nothing.” Matt said. He shook his head at his failed attempt at a quick quip.

“Please!!! I'm really hungry!” Maggie begged.

“Ask Jake. Wait, why don't you ask Frank?” Matt asked. The sarcastic tone implied Matt’s cynicism was firmly intact.

“EW! He is the most grossest guy! And he smells like fish most of the time!” Maggie exclaimed.

“Sounds like you guys have something in common!” Matt jested.

“Who?” Frank asked. He had emerged from the office under Matt’s radar. Maggie decided that the blood rule of 10 feet could also apply to Frank and went to ask Jake if he would make her some food.

“You and Maggie.” Matt replied.

“What makes you think that?” Frank asked.

“You both like fish!” Matt beamed.

“Really? She likes fish?” Frank asked. It seemed to Matt that Frank had more questions then answers.

“Yeah, man! Loves it!” Matt exuberated.

“Fish is disgusting!” Frank stated.

“Kind of like your cologne.” Matt retorted.

“Funny. Speaking of funny, did your trainee come back?” Frank questioned Matt.

“FNG? Yeah, he's back.” Matt answered. Matt was utterly shocked that Frank wouldn’t leave after his cologne comment and wondered why he was still hanging around.

“Good. I'm firing him for being so stupid.” Frank said.

“Hey, no. That's not fair at all. It was a joke, let it go. I mean it's his first week, and you know damn well that was my fault.” Matt defended FNG.

“Fine. But anymore of your antics and you and him are gone!” Frank threatened.

“Sure thing coach. Now go back to the office and do what you do best.” Matt suggested.

“What's that suppose to mean?” Frank asked. As much as he tried to intimidate Matt, it never worked.

“That your good at paperwork?” Matt quipped.

“I mean it Matt, quit fucking around!” Frank said. His voice slightly elevated for effect.

“Whatever you say Chief!” Matt said as he mocked saluted Frank while he walked away.

***

While the cynical and ominous dispute was going on between Frank and Matt, Jake and Maggie were having a light, innuendo filled discussion on the other side of the line.

“Oh and extra cheese! And maybe some more tomatoes! Mmm, This is going be good!” Maggie exclaimed. Her mouth watering at the sight and smell of her meal.

“You know what else is going be good?” Jake chimed in.

“What?” Maggie asked. Her coy attitude implied the usual, ‘I already know, but I want you to tell me anyway’ state of mind.

“Our little romp later.” Jake said. Oh he was good and he knew it.

“Well I hope it's not to little, and that it's more of a hard fucking.” Maggie teased. Oh she was good and he knew it.

Jake put up her meal and said, “Here you are.”

“Thank you Jake.” Maggie said. She looked gingerly at him and blew him a kiss.

“Your welcome.” Jake replied.

The office door slammed shut yet again. Everyone in the kitchen needed to know the dirt.

“What was that about?” Shaun asked. The haze was starting to fade and he was becoming more observant.

“Just our noble kitchen manager playing bad cop.” Matt explained.

“What did you say to him now?” Jake questioned Matt. Jake knew that Matt had did something to get under Frank’s skin.

“Nothing much. He's still pissy about the FNG thing.” Matt replied.

“Franks mad at me?” FNG asked. The terror now back in his eyes.

“No, he's mad at me, but he was going to fire you.” Matt said. He had mentioned the last bit to make it sound humorous, but it didn’t work the way he meant it to.

“WHAT? I did what you told me to do!” FNG fretted.

“I know. That's what I...” Matt started.

“So he's going to fire me?” FNG cut Matt off to exasperate further.

“No. I talked him out of it. Anyway, let's check out your station.” Matt suggested to FNG.

Kitchen Life: 86'd.

Jake began his story, (like all good stories), at the beginning of the night.

Jake and Matt had just gotten off shift and decided to have a few beers on the patio before going home for the night. Luckily for the two of them Maggie was their server and they wouldn’t have to order food with their beer.

“What do you two want?” Maggie asked. The mock disgust in her voice suggested she was in a great mood even though she was more then likely closing.

“A pitcher would be swell Mags.” Matt replied.

“Really? Just one?” Maggie asked. She was generally shocked by this.

“For the moment anyway. Matt is undecided on getting smashed tonight.” Jake responded.

“Ah. I see, well I’ll bring out two. Just to be on the safe side.” Maggie said. She left to get the pitchers.

“See Matt! Maggie just made your decision much easier!” Jake cheered.

“Yeah, she’s a good friend.” Matt smiled.

A few hours and $75 later, the Cheshire was closed. Jake and Matt were finishing their last two glasses of beer. As both Jake and Mat viewed their growing alcohol dependency at a professional level, they were just getting buzzed. Maggie joined them to cash out for the night.

“So what is your plan for this evening?” Maggie asked.

“Not sure. Possibly go to the bar for a bit then catch a show or two at the peelers.” Jake postulated.

“That sounds like a pretty solid plan.” Matt chimed in.

Maggie was counting what she made that night and didn’t even look up as she said,“Sweet.”

“What’s your plan, Mags?” Jake questioned.

“I don’t know.” Maggie answered, still counting.

“Well you should come out with us!” Matt suggested. The beer buzz was treating him fine.

“Sounds good, but I’m not going to the strippers.” Maggie stated.

“Excellent.” Jake replied.

A couple of hours later, Jake and Matt said good night to Maggie and headed to the strip club. When they arrived they were relieved to find a few empty seats in front of the stage. There wasn’t a show going on so Matt decided to start a conversation with Jake.

“Fuck, dude. The booze is hitting home. I'm fucking drunk!” Matt slurred.

“Yeah me too.” Jake replied.

Just then the D.J. came on over the PA and announced the next show. The dancer made her way on stage. The D.J. trumped, “The alluring STORMY!!!”

“Hey, I got an idea!” Jake exclaimed.

“What's that?” Matt asked. He was too drunk to be excited by ideas.

“Let's pick up the stripper!” Jake suggested.

“I don't know, dude, we're pretty fucked up. I don't think she'll go for it.” Matt articulated.

“Sure she will! Watch this!” Jake retorted.

Jake began to motion Stormy to come over to him. As Jake stood up just a little bit, she bent down. Jake whispered to her, “Would you care to hangout with my friend and I after the bar closes?”

“Sounds fun, I would love to do that!” Stormy nodded. “Meet me out front after my set.” She added. She winked slyly at Jake and Matt as she returned to centre stage.

***

Outside of the club, Jake and Mat waited for Stormy. Mat had a little bit too much booze and found the wall to be wonderful to lean against with his hands on his knees. Jake on the other hand was really was way to excited to lean, so he stood rubbing his hands together.

Mat trying very hard not to let his world completely rush away into the land of sleep started a conversation.

“Jake, not to burst your nut, but I don't think she's going show.” Matt said. He was hoping that she wouldn’t.

“Sure she will! It's only been fifteen minutes. Just relax Matt.” Jake retorted.

“I'll give it another five minutes, then I'm getting us a cab, and were going back to your place to crash.” Matt stated.

***

“So, then what happened?” Shaun interrupted.

“Well, she ended coming outside at the last minute and we ended up back at her hotel room.” Mat explained. His enthusiasm was out weighed by his embarrassment.

***

Jake, Matt and Stormy sat on the hotel bed. The drinking had slowed down to 1 drink per hour. Stormy was telling Jake and Matt about herself. Matt wasn’t sure if what he was hearing was correct and Jake just wanted to fuck.
Stormy went on with her stories.

“Then this one time when I was still hooking, this guy picked me up. We went back to his house, his kids were in bed, and his wife was out with her friends. So we get in to things, you know he starts fingering me while I'm blowing him. Just nickel and dime stuff, really. Anyway, when things get into full swing he turns to me and asks me if he could give it to me doggie style while I give him a rim job. Well I said, if you want me to do that it'll cost you another seventy-five bucks! I mean I was trying to put myself through Med school for god sake. So what do you guys do?” Stormy asked.

“Well... We work in a kitchen.” Matt said. His confusion by this point was more than apparent. Questions like, ‘How old is this stripper?’ And ‘She looks hot, but is that actually how she looks, or is it just the alcohol?’ Kept creeping up in his mind.

“That's cool. I used to do that. Except that I would hide in a cooler and give hummers to all the male staff when they got to stressed out. Man, I got paid phenomenally well. That is until they made all these laws against hookers in coolers waiting to give BJ's.” Stormy chimed in.

***

“Wow!” Van exclaimed. Sadly in the 5 to 10 minutes it took Jake and Matt to tell the story, no one still had any clue as to what Van was really saying.

Jake turned to Van and asked, “What?”

“Never mind.” Van said as he shook his head and hand at Jake.

“That's crazy!” Shaun exclaimed.

“That's nothing. It gets worse.” Matt solemnly stated.

“How? You guys nailed her, and caught something?” Shaun inquired.

“No. Nothing like that. See Matt ended up sleeping with her. He didn't catch anything.” Jake said attempting to embarrass Matt more.

“Okay, you have to realize that we were in no condition to make any judgment calls. This stripper we both thought was fucking smoking, and Jake nailed too. The problem was when we woke up in the morning we realized two things: first we had drank way too much and our hangovers were not going to let us go to work, and secondly the stripper we had picked up the night before was eighty-six years old!” Matt explained.

Shaun and Van both burst out in maniacal laughter.

“Frank must have been pissed when you guys called in!” Shaun said. He had forgot whether or not he was trying to ask a question or make a statement.

“Yeah, but he didn't even write us up because of the fact that the stripper was eighty-six. He just laughed at us the next day we came in. It’s probably my fondest memory of Frank actually.” Matt said.

“Matt, why did you bring that story up? That was really embarrassing.” Jake said.

“You brought it up!” Matt exclaimed as he raised a finger and pointed at Jake.

Just then FNG walked in the back door. He walked into the kitchen looking similar to Judas when he told the rest of the apostles that he sold Jesus for 30 silver pieces.

Kitchen Life: When in doubt, push your luck!

As soon as the door was shut, Mat let out a chuckle of self satisfaction. To Mat it seemed that Frank didn’t appreciate honesty.

Jake broke Mat’s train of silent thought.

“Fuck! He was pissed!” Jake said. The half chuckle, half speaking made Mat chuckle a little harder.

“Yeah. Oh well, the madder he gets the funnier it is.” Mat replied.

Jake raised a finger to Mat and said, “I think your on to something Matt.” Both of them began laughing at the whole situation.

They were both on the verge of tears when Shaun piped up with the a question through his stoned haze, “Hey, where's Kamron?” He asked setting down his knife and realizing that he wasn’t on the station he was supposed to be working on that day.

“Don't know. He was supposed to open today wasn't he?” Mat answered with another question.

“I'm fairly sure I saw him on the schedule. Why don’t you go ask Frank?” Jake suggested.

“Fuck that, he's already pissed about my prank on FNG. Why don't you go ask, Jake?” Mat replied. It seemed to Mat that he had more questions then answers.

“I just got back, and the mood he's in I'd probably lose my job. Sure pissing him off is funny, but I need the money.” Jake explained.

Van was excited to be helpful to his English speaking friends and stated, “Kamron's in Tokyo. I heard Frank talking to himself about it.” However, since he was unable to speak English, it just came out in a different language.

“What?” Mat asked Van.

“I said, Kamron is in Tokyo!” Van responded in his native tongue once more. He even tried to use body language in an attempt to make his statement a little more clear.
“Van, you know none of us can understand Bosnian, just write it down. It is a lot easier that way.” Mat suggested.

“Yeah, yeah. The story of my life! Just write it down! Why don’t you people just learn Serbo-Croatian” Van mumbled as he pulled a slip of paper from the printer he was closest to. His English spelling was quite horrible:

‘CamEran si n toEKEy-O’

It was at least better then his attempts to vocalize his idea’s. He handed the note to Mat.

“For fuck sakes!” Mat exclaimed, he then added, “Well saddle up boys, it's going be one of those days.”

“Why's that?” Shaun asked.

“Kamron's in Tokyo.” Mat answered.

“How the fuck did he end up in Tokyo?” Shaun asked.

Shaun meant the question to be rhetorical, but Jake suggested an answer anyway. “Probably got drunk and ended up catching a flight with some Asian stripper.”

“What?” Van asked. Van was unfamiliar with the term ‘Stripper’.

“Huh?” Jake asked Van. What they had was a failure to communicate.

“I don't understand.” Van said. He repeatedly shrugged his shoulders to convey that he wanted to know what the term ‘Stripper’ meant.

“Just drunken stupidity. Some people do absolutely retarded things when they're drunk. Like the time Matt and I went to that stripper's room.” Jake answered.

“Jake, man. Don't bring that up!” Mat exclaimed.

“Why not?” Shaun asked Mat. He then turned to Jake and asked, “What happened Jake?”

A devious smile crossed Jake’s face. Mat knew the look well. It meant inevitable embarrassment. As Mat silently wished not to relive this story, Jake continued. “Okay, so one night Mat and I go to the bar...”

Kitchen Life: Earlier that day...

It was early. Way to early for most of the minimum wage slaves around the world, however wage slave drivers didn’t seem to be much of people anyway.

Frank was a wage slave driver, otherwise known as a manager. As he barreled into the parking lot he decided to parking in the handicap parking spot. There was no other reason then to show he could.

He got out of his truck and tried to unlock the door. This turned out to be one of those experiences that was very unfavorable as his key snapped on him in the lock.

“Stupid fucking door! This is going to come out of my paycheck! I just know it! Thanks you stupid fucking door!” Frank yelled.

He kicked the door, looked around, then decided to pull and shake the handle violently to try and unlock it that way. This also proved to be unfavorable as it swung open and hit him in the face. This had caused his nose to bleed.

After a short and unbridled scream of rage, he pinched the bridge of his nose and went inside.
Frank walked to the public washroom and plugged his bloody nostril with 3 squares of toilet paper. He then made his way to the office. The was a message on the machine, he pressed the play button.

The answering machine beeped and stated that there was one new message and proceeded to play it.

“Hey it's Kamron, I don't think I can make it to work today because Last night I got hammered, and I ended up in Tokyo! Can you believe it? I mean this is pretty wild! Anyway a Geisha girl hooker seduced me and stole my passport, so I need to get smuggled back into Canada on a "Fishing Boat". Anyway I'll be back in a couple days, so just get the FNG to cover my shifts. Kay Later.” Kamron’s voice said.

“That little punk! His ass is as good as fired when he gets back!” Frank promised the air around him.

Frank took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack in the office. He walked out of the office and went to the coffee machine to make a pot of coffee. Just then a server walks up behind him and began washing her hands.

Frank turned around startled by the sink and said, “Oh, Hey Maggie. How are you?”

“All right.” Maggie replied.

“Well.. Okay. Is there anything that you want to talk about? Possibly getting together tonight, going for dinner and possibly going back to my place?” Frank said trying to be smooth as ice.

“God! What do think I am? A Slut? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says "OPEN FOR BUSINESS" or something?” Maggie snapped.

Jake came into the kitchen with a swagger. He had heard Maggie snap at Frank when he had walked in and decided to go on with the day as if nothing happened at all.

“No. Not per-say. But I... I... Oh forget it!” Frank choked.

Frank began to walk back to the office. He looked up to see Jake coming in, gave him a head nod and kept on walking. Jake walked up behind Maggie and put his arms around her waist.

“Hey Maggie, we still on for this afternoon?” Jake whispered in Maggie’s ear.

Maggie turned her head and said, “You bet Jake. You know how much I like it at work. Makes me feel so dirty! I love when you make me feel that way.”

“Yes, Yes I do. So when do you want to hook up?” Jake asked.

“Lets aim for around three. Should be dead enough by then.” Maggie suggested.

Maggie smiled at Jake and walked away to set up the dinning area. Jake stared at her smiling until she was by the host stand, then grabbed a cup of coffee and went to his station to set up. It would be just another day in paradise.

FNG and Matt came into the kitchen. Matt saw Jake, gave him a smirk and said, “What’s up G?”

“Not much, going to fuck Maggie at work later.” Jake replied.

“Oh, not like that’s ever happened before.” Matt said as he walked to the washroom.

“No, never!” Jake shot back.

They both began to chuckle while FNG just stood frozen at the exchange of conversation that had just taken place.

Matt turned to FNG and asked, “Is everything okay dude?”

“Umm... I’m fine.” FNG replied. He then put on an obviously forced smile to Matt.

“Okay, just checking.” Matt returned.

Matt walked to the washroom and closed the door. Jake watched him do this then turned his attention to FNG.

“So you must be new. I can see the fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, it’ll get better and before long you’ll be in the loop of the drama. I’m Jake by the way.” Jake offered.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m...”

FNG was cut off by the office door opening and shutting rather loudly.

“That’s Frank, he is the worst KM ever.” Jake whispered to FNG.

“Jake, where the hell is Matt? He is supposed to be here by... Oh, hey. You must be the FNG. I’m your manager Frank.” Frank said. He extended his hand to FNG.

FNG took and shook it as professionally as he could.

“Your trainer is some what touched in the head and isn’t here yet...” Frank started.

“Actually, he’s in the washroom. He’ll be out soon if you would care to save your snide comments to say to his face.” Jake piped up.

“Oh, well then your in good hands. Welcome to the team!” Frank said. He then walked out front.

“See what I mean?” Jake asked FNG.

“I don’t care for him much already.” FNG replied.

“Nobody really does.” Jake said.

Matt came out of the washroom and said, “Could you show him how to set up Jake?” As he disappeared out front to grab a coffee.

“All right FNG, this is the kitchen. First things first, we grab some wash buckets.” Jake said.

***
On the service isle Matt stood staring off at the ceiling as he poured his coffee. He looked down at his coffee to make sure he wasn’t spilling everywhere. The pot ran empty.

“That cheap fuck.” Matt said to himself.

Just then Frank walked up beside Matt with an empty coffee mug.

“DAMN IT! Why do you always do that?” Frank questioned Matt.

“They don't call me the fastest coffee snatcher of the west for nothin', partner.” Matt replied in a mock Texan accent.

“Whatever, Matt. Just put some more fucking coffee on.” Frank instructed as he sulked back to the office.

“Aye, aye captain!” Matt exclaimed as he began putting on another pot.

Matt returned to the kitchen with his coffee.

“Boy, Frank is pissy today.” Matt said.

“That's nothing, when I got here he was trying to nail Maggie!” Jake chimed in.

“Really? Did he get anywhere with it?” Matt inquired.

“No.” Jake responded.

“What!?! Maggie didn't give it up to him? I wonder why not...” Matt said sarcastically.

“Because I intercepted the pass.” Jake stated.

“You are a real prick, you know that Jake?” Matt asked rhetorically.

“Well how did you do that?” FNG asked genuinely.

“You don’t get to know trade secrets on your first day.” Matt said to FNG.

“I’m not that young you know. I do know about sex!” FNG protested.

“I’m not saying you don’t. Look, would you be able to go get some Ice Mix from the store?” Matt asked FNG.

“Ice Mix? What's that used for?” FNG questioned.

“The ice machine, it ran out of ice, so I need you to go to the store and get Ice Mix.” Matt replied.

“Okay! Is there a specific brand we use?” FNG perked.

“No. It's just called Ice Mix. Now go before we open!” Matt instructed.

“Kay I'll be right back!” FNG said. His exuberance was highly noticeable.

“Okay. Go.” Matt shooed FNG.

The words had no sooner left Matt’s mouth and FNG was gone.

“And I'm the prick!” Jake exclaimed.

“I never said that I wasn't. So how'd you do it?” Matt asked.

“I'd say Jake saved me from Frank. Frank is one of those guys that tries way to hard to get laid. I just told him I wasn't a slut and Jake came and asked me if we were still on for this afternoon.” Maggie stated as she walked into the kitchen.

“Nice.” Matt chimed with a head nod.

“We are still on for Three though, right?” Jake asked deviously.

“Fuck yeah! Since I saw Gash Gushing for Cum 42, and I saw you in action with that brunette, it got me extremely hot.” Maggie claimed.

“The part where Jake's doing her doggie style while she gives him a rim job? You're telling me! You were the first person I thought of when I saw that!” Matt said with his usual sarcasm.
Jake responded to this banter by laughing. Maggie and Matt were always in a playful state of bickering and this was always entertaining to watch.

“Matty, you are... really funny. But I know you want to have your way with me right there on your cutting board.” Maggie said, sure that she was right.

“No Thanks. I know that you have the Clap, and I'm not down with that shit. Besides, It’s not your fault that your a slut, all you truly want is to be loved. That is what you said the other night when we were drunk right?” Matt prodded.

“So what? I was drunk! People say things they don’t really mean when they are drunk! I like sex, I like it a lot, and just because you don’t get the play that you want, don’t take it out on me, because I offered! And another thing, I don’t have the clap! Well at least not anymore, so there!” Maggie matter-of-factly stated as she walked back out front.

Shaun and Van walked into the kitchen smelling like they had just been at a bond fire, but instead of burning wood, they opted to burn Marijuana.

“What'd up, Matt?” Shaun greeted.

“The same as yesterday, still at this soul crushing hell hole. How about you?” Matt shot back.

“Not much. Just smoked this wicked dope with Van.” Shaun proudly announced.

“Isn't this your first day back from your worker's comp holiday?” Matt asked.

“Yeah, but this shit just smelled sweet! I had to try some out before work.” Shaun confessed.

“Gonna slice your finger nails off again after just getting back?” Jake pressed.

“Nah man, I'm good to go.” Shaun said.

“Shaun, get to work!” Frank shouted out from the office.

“Talk to you in a bit.” Shaun said walking to the washroom to get changed.

“All right, Shaun.”

“And you Van! Your are late again! I swear, the next time your late I'm writing you up!” Frank yelled as he came out of the office.

“Go back to the office and jerk it until you blind yourself.” Van said without fear.

Matt and Jake would have laughed if they understood what he said. Frank would have probably fired him. That’s the only draw back to having a foreigner that doesn’t speak English.

“What was that Van?” Frank said angrily. However he knew it wouldn’t matter if he repeated it or not as no one understood anything he said.

“I said...”

“Just shut up and get to work! Matt, where's that new kid?” Frank cut Van off and turned his wrath towards Matt.

“FNG?” Matt coyly asked.

“Yeah him.” Frank demanded.

“I sent him to the store for ice mix.” Matt replied whimsically.

“Oh. Okay.” Frank said, then began to walk away until it sank in. When it did Frank lost it and yelled, “WHAT??? YOU SENT HIM TO THE STORE FOR ICE MIX??? YOU FUCKING RETARD!!! I SHOULD FIRE YOU RIGHT NOW!!!”

“Go head. That way I could get on with my life.” Matt returned with confidence.

“FUCK!!! I'll deal with you later!” Frank said. He stormed back to the office and slammed the door.

Kitchen Life: Prologue

Most people think that the Kitchen Life is easy. Maybe they think we don’t do much in the kitchen, or maybe they think their food just magically appears and we are there just to make sure it goes to their table before anyone one else gets their food. While I may not know what goes through people’s minds when they go out to eat, I do know what it’s like being one of the magicians that work the back end. Naturally I’m talking about the kitchen.

Today isn’t like every other day of my some what personal hell. There is no work. I don’t just mean that I have a day off, I’m talking more about needing to seek another kitchen, at least until I find something else that I want to do with my life.

I should really start at the beginning to give you a clearer idea of what my situation is all about.
Yesterday I was supervising while my kitchen manager Frank was busy doing nothing except yelling and sitting in the office. Me being in charge while there is a manager on shift seems to be a running theme in my life. Anyway, somehow I got placed as a trainer as well.

Now as a rule of thumb, any new guy, (or girl) that starts in the kitchen is lovingly referred to as an FNG. These 3 letters stand for Fucking New Guy/Girl. My trainee was no exception. He strolled up to the back door exactly one hour before we opened. I was doing my usual slacking out back when he arrived. I knew we had a new guy coming in, however at this point I had no clue that I was training him. I started a casual conversation.

“So you’re the new guy, eh?” I asked him without really caring all that much.

“Yeah! I’m...”

“First things first. You are the FNG, therefore you don’t have a name yet.” I cut him off.

“Okay. When do I get a name?” He questioned.

“Depends on how fast you learn everything on your station. Anyway, I’m Matt. I’m a supervisor here at the Cheshire. To be brutally honest I absolutely hate my job, and had done almost everything in my power to get fired from this purgatory.” I said. The cynicism was practically dripping from my tongue as the words left my mouth.

“Why do you hate your job?” He asked, trying his hardest to seem concerned.

“Frank. He’s the type of guy who you could picture hitting on the fifteen year old hostesses. Unfortunately he is the only guy our GM thinks is capable of being the KM. But Frank has a weakness.” I replied. The 20 semantics questions game I liked to play the most had begun.

“And what’s his weakness?” He asked. For a moment he reminded me of Piglet from Winnie-The-Pooh.

“Maggie. She is the type of girl who everybody knows. Fake, shallow, and above all, a slut. She would do anything or, anyone for and extra buck or a promotion. Don’t think that I’m being a dick, though. We are great friends. Then there is Shaun. He is what people call accident prone. Every time he got even a scratch he went on worker's comp, the guy spends more time at home getting paid then he does at work. It’s his first day back today.” I explained.

“Wait, how can you and Maggie be friends if you call her down? And why the hell does this Shaun guy still work here?” He questioned.

I sensed his confusion, so I tried to get him on the same page. This always the worst part of this game. Whenever someone gets confused the best thing to do is recap everything you have just said in as few words as possible.

“Because FNG, we are what is known as Lifers. Basically all of us hate it here, but are unwilling to go look for other jobs.” I said.

I hoped he would get the picture, but unfortunately his reply to this was, “I don’t get it.” I thought this would be the optimal time for one of those mottos we all invent in times of tested patience.

“Okay, here’s my motto: Just because your good at something, doesn’t mean that you should be doing it. So in my case, I’m an excellent cook, but it isn’t what I’m suppose to be doing.” Was the best I could come up with.

“And what are you supposed to be doing?” He asked. Goddamn it. Check mate.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” I replied.

I got up from the milk create on which I was sitting, then began to open the back door. FNG had a look of uncertainty, so I motioned for him to follow me. Down the rabbit hole we went.

When you work in a kitchen, the natural laws of the Universe don’t apply. I think that all kitchen’s, wait... Restaurants in general should have a warning above the front entrance of the building. It would read:

ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO APPLY HERE.

As we walked through the door I did my best to explain the dynamics of how a restaurant works. Mostly through the people I worked with.

“Of course there are some of us who have an unfair advantage. The Foreign guy, Van Couver. He lips off in his own language and doesn’t get in trouble for it. Hey Frank.” I said.

“Yeah, same to you Matt.” Frank grumbled as he entered the office.

“We also have a quasi-superhero Dish Pig, I always try to humor him by letting him think he is fighting a constant battle with his arch nemesis: Melted Cheese and other assorted things that come on dirty dishes.” I continued.

“A super hero dish washer?” FNG asked.

Again he had that Piglet look in his eyes. He was probably wondering to himself what exactly he had signed on for. All he knew was that no good could come from this venture.
“You bet. I almost forgot about Jake.” I stated.

“Who is Jake?” FNG replied.

He looked terrified at the sheer mention of Jake’s name. Maybe it was how I had explained everyone else that made him uneasy about me telling him about yet another person that would seem to any normal sort of person as ‘unredeemable’.

“Jake is my best friend. He quit for a couple of months to try and become a porno superstar. He did all right at first, made a few titles like Gash Gushing for Cum 42, The Milkman Always Cums Twice, and a spoof porn called The Cocksucker's Guide of the Galaxy. He's a pretty good guy, but I think he is actually glad to be back.” I went on.

“Matt, I’m a little scared.” FNG admitted.

“Don’t be, everyone has to start off as the FNG sometime in there life.” I reassured him.

Warning: Cooking has side effects!

It was quite early. As near as I could figure, it was around 7. The incessant buzz from the alarm I have had since grade 9 has been going off for about a half hour. I was late for work. The kitchen life is serious. Cooking is serious business! Actually cooking is one of the early warning signs of trepanation. Cooking leads to a lot of things you never thought you would do. Most of which are self destructive and eventually lead to insanity.

At the tender age of 18 I thought it would be an adventure. I thought I would do it for a few months and then find something better. That something better never came along, and through seven long years of hellish torture I have finally realized something about myself. I fucked up. I never did go back to school, and I never followed my dreams. Today was the day that this was all going to change.

I rolled out of bed bleary eyed and hungover, (cooking also leads to alcoholism), forcing myself to enter the world of consciousness. I was slightly surprised to see one of the servers I worked with lying next to me. The events of the previous night started to slowly trickle back into my mind. We had fucked, at least that much was obvious due to the used condom and clothes strewn about my bedroom floor.

I didn't wake her. Instead I made my way to the bathroom. My scrawny white ass chilly from the cool breeze blowing through my window, and making it's way down the hall. In the bathroom I pissed. Oh god did I piss. It was like watching a river flooding out of my bell end. I washed my hands, flushed the toilet and went back to my room. I was on the hunt for some rudimentary garments I could easily fling off to put my uniform on. After about 15 minutes of a whirlwind of confusion I finally was dressed. I was already late, and now it was merely a matter of degree.

I raced to work! Blowing every stop sign and red light on the way. Some would consider this reckless, however I tend to view it as just another side effect of the kitchen life. I knew Dave would be in at 9 so I didn't sweat my lateness much. I had bigger problems, I still had to cook! When I got to work at 7:20, I knew I was fucked. My general manager was letting people in the front door. Security must have called him to ask why the restaurant wasn't unarmed yet.

After everyone was in he kepted me outside to talk with me. The conversation went like this:

Steve: Why are you late?

A. Warren: I think I drank a bit to much last night and was abducted by aliens.

Steve: Do you think this is a game? We have a responsibility to our jobs, and those responsibilities include being here on time! You are one of the top people here, you better than most should know this already!

A. Warren: I know. It's just been busy lately and I haven't been getting much sleep. I thought the booze would help.

Steve: I know what you mean man, I've been where you are before. I know I don't seem like it, but I have. Then one day something snapped. I wanted something more. I wanted the girlfriend, the big cheques, the good life. That's when I realized I need to step up and become a manager. Eventually the other things fell into place. Personally I would like to see you as a manager rather than Shane.

A. Warren: Really? Why? I'm not the best at following rules, or even keeping staff in line!

Steve: I know that, but people respect you a lot more. They know your the nice guy that tries his best to help them out in any situation. Shane is very angry. Now I'm not mad that your late, I'm more upset with the fact that you don't even see your potential. Your capable of great things. Now go and get your morning shit done, and don't let David come in today if he comes late. Send him home.

For a split second I almost fell for it. All this pep talk was was a very sly way of saying quit fucking up. I really don't want you here, and you should do something with your life! That's what he really meant to say. One point I should bring up is the David he was talking about was a line opener, not my FOH counterpart. Now the fun began.

Steve had left me with an unsettling feeling that something bad was about to happen that day. I never got off that easy. As I reviewed the memos scribbled in the log something caught my eye. Something that I really didn't want. A reservation. It wasn't a small and easy 4 top either. No one is ever that lucky. Instead it was a reservation for 50. The cold undead childern cried. To make matters worse, it was for 3:30. This definetly meant overtime. The cold undead childern cried on.

Opening a kitchen isn't the worst thing in the world. That is if you have the right players on. As it was David pulled a no show which meant I had to set up the line, and the prep cook on hated me. Not a very promising start. I went into auto-piolet, (which I ususally did whenever I opened), and burned through my counts, prep chart and set up. This brought me to 9 am. This meant Dave would be here in a half hour.

My ever so loathing prep cook began snarling at me that she was short on products she needed to complete her prep chart. A glimmer of light through the ever darkening storm. This meant I had to go to Shoppers. I locked up the office and headed for my vehicle, list in hand. I needed at least 6 items, and I was sure there would be more when I got back, which meant another jaunt over to the Save-On across the street.

My head was pounding and the traffic was terrible. Everybody has no concept of safety at 9:10 in the morning. I narrowly managed to make it to Shoppers unscathed. My eyes were not yet adjusted to the sun, and I had 15 minutes to get these six items. (15 minutes was my own timeframe not the restaurants). I blindly raced through the isles half aware of what I was actually grabbing, yet somehow it worked out. I used the charge account and signed my name like so many times before, and headed out the door. I almost ran down an elderly couple with the cart. If they are reading, I'm truly sorry.

After this whole ordeal I went through the Tim Horton's drive through to get coffees for everyone. The surley prep cook on would bitch about her coffee, but I figured it would be a nice gesture to get her one anyway. Then it was back to work!

With my hangover in tact and all the items I had on my Shopper's run in my car and the Tim Horton's coffees spilling all over the interior of my car, I finally made it back in time to see Dave just pulling up ready to start the day. He looked as tired as me. Most likely due to the heavy lager we had been enjoying the night before. I pulled in beside him and hopped out of my transport to say a quick hello and ring the backdoor buzzer. My ever growing snide prep cook answered, pissed off as usual. I made her bring in the items herself, then gave her the coffee I bought her.

Dave and I stood outside smoking and talking until 10 am. It was our usual Sunday morning ritual. The subject of our conversation mostly had to due with how we could betterly gear our toons to get to 70 faster in World of Warcraft. We then headed inside. Both of us were not completely there, yet we both could function well enough to to do what we needed to do for the day.

Once we started getting tables around 11:30, I had already been chastisised by Jesse, (another fellow WoW player), for not being on last night and drinking my face off instead, the server I woke up next to called in sick, and we had no unthawed buger patties. (In retrospective of this last point, I should have pulled some and thawed them). Oh boy! Lunch had began. The two and a half hour flurry of bills sent my mind reeling. I was getting yelled at by everyone, and had no idea how much longer I could keep myself from passing out. Finally, it stopped. The world started becoming clearer, and I was starting not to feel as hungover as I had been the rest of the day.

Dave and I went for another cigerette out back. We both started laughing that we had just survived the day from hell that we had both self induced the night before. Then we did what most people do. We began the replay of events.

When I returned home hagared and ready to die I realized someone was in my bed. At first, (since I am not very logical), I thought it was my cats for once getting along. As I pulled the covers off of the figure I remembered that it was the server who called in. I'll never forget her sweet and somewhat loud words: "Come back to bed and turn off the light!"