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Muddy New Cooks
I wrote these in ihop one night. Neither have ever happend to me. Well, one did.
I don't actually remember falling asleep. I got out of my old car and when I shut the door vertigo set in. I slammed torso first into the hood. I started sliding toward the ground, my flesh squeaking trying to grab hold of something. Just as my fingertips touched the rubber of my windshield wipers my body became gravity's toy. Not like a balloon--how I wish I could have been--but like that of an anvil.
It had just rained two straight days so the ground was soft. Soft with mud, and every part of my body was now covered in a brown syrup.
I needed to get to my porch and sit in the rocker, and gather what equillibrium I have left.
I had reached the bottom step to the porch and was gaining some balance and composure. After the first step I fell back first into the mud. I gave up. I laid there, what was apparently motioless, but I'll tell you I wasn't still.
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The new cook was already having a rough night. Some plates had to be sent back due to the steaks being undercooked. Now, he has another dilemma. The new waitress learned how to write from chickens. The cook looked at the ticket sideways, upside down and still could not decipher the script. Being afraid to ask for help the cook went with instinct and decided that a Hot Fudge Sundae would be the best. Even if it was wrong the couple that was actually waiting for a side of hash browns would get a free dessert.
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