Ah, the early morning stillness under the dark velvety sky….sigh. So much beauty I can hardly stand it.
“Oh my God, get that toast away from me!” M shrieked, and I almost spilled my coffee.
What is it? A mouse? Mold? Nope. Sorry folks, my friend is a little unstable. As you were.
Is it safe for me to enjoy my coffee now?
“Don’t you remember that I worked at IHOP?”
Is this a trick question? I must have forgotten something important and am now being led into a trap.
“I had to make the toast!”
Is toast bad?
“My entire shift! Every shift! Toast!”
I can see how that would get tiresome.
“Tiresome? I had to butter every single piece of toast that left the kitchen!”
That must have been a lot of toast.
“I was surrounded by tubs of butter and stacks of toast! I was covered in butter! My arms, my hair!”
They didn’t let you do anything else? That’s kind of mean.
“Nobody wanted to do it! It was the worst job in the kitchen!”
Hmm…the dish pit guy might have disagreed.
“Dish pit?! I wish I’d had it so good!”
Toast! That must have been the worst job ever! (I may be slow, but I can learn.)
“Yes! To this day, I can’t stand being around toast! The smell! I can never get rid of it!”
The manager came around. “Is everything okay?”
Absolutely, I said. You should know that your establishment serves the best toast. It’s prepared to a wonderful golden brown with the perfect amount of butter.
“That’s great to hear, and I’ll pass it on to the kitchen.” The mildly surprised manager gave me his card with a note for our next visit.
“Where the f*ck were you when I was buried in butter?!”
I love you too, M. Now may I please have my coffee?