May I present a tale from the Six Sentence Café and Bistro…
“Hey, thanks for coming in later and covering the last part of my shift today…no, not too busy…Tom and I handled the breakfast crowd, I figure by the time you get here…, no, at no point did he pull an Adam Jones ….yes you do…you know the film….yeah, about the chef with substance abuse/anger issues…lol…Bradley Cooper, “Burnt”…. knew you’d remember” *laughter on both ends of the phone*
“Oh, I promised I’d go to a baseball game…not really…na-ah, only a slight detour in my day, besides, the sun’s cranking at 11 and I could use a little Vitamin D, ya know…you remember Girl’s Night Out….holy shit, yeah…anyway, remember the guy laid down our ink… yes, the hunky one…been friends with his wife since forever, she wants me to come watch their youngest kid play at the field over on Trem….hey, can you hang on a sec, there’s a helluva noise coming from the kitchen, think it’s Tom yelling…”
“Yo, Tom, all cool back there?! Not throwin’ a tantrum with those pans, are you?”
I tossed my phone on the length of mahogany that runs along the right-hand wall of the Six Sentence Café and Bistro and sprinted towards the kitchen pushing through the double swinging doors in time to see the first flames, hungry for more, scorch the hood over the SSC&B’s grill.
“Holy shit, Tom, get me as many boxes of baking soda as you can and call 911 before this baby gets totally out of cont…”